"WELL,  I'D  HAD  HIS  ODDER  EAR  OFF  IF  THE  COP  HADN'T  SNATCHED  ME." 

— Frontispiece- 


'CHIMMIE  FADDEN" 


MAJOR  MAX 
©tber  Stories 


EDWARD  W.  JpWNSEND 

AUTHOR  OF 
'THE  GATES  FAMILY  MYSTERY,"  AND  OTHER  STORIES 


NEW  YORK 

LOVELL,  CORYELL  &  COMPANY 
310-318  SIXTH  AVENUE 


PS 


c 


Copyright,  1895, 

BY 
UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHIMMIE   FADDEN   STORIES. 

CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS,  ...  1 
CHIMMIE  ENTERS  POLITE  SOCIETY,  ...  9 
CHIMMIE  MEETS  THE  DUCHESS,  .  .  .  .17 
CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  DEEP  WATER,  .  .27 

CHIMMIE  OBSERVES  CLUB  LIFE,      .        .        .        .35 

WOMIN  is  QUEER,  45 

CHIMMIE  FADDEN 's  NIGHT  OFF,  .  .  .  .53 
MR.  FADDEN 's  POLITICAL  EXPERIENCE,  .  .  61 

LOVE  AND  WAR, 69 

THE  DUCHESS  ON  THE  BOWERY,  .  .  .  .79 
A  STUDIO,  A  CIGARETTE,  AND  CUPID,  .  .  .  87 
CHIMMIE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  MARRY,  .  .97 

'ER  GRACE,  DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN,  .        .        .107 

SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  MCFADDEN 117 

THE  GOOD  OFFICES  OF  MR.  PAUL,  .  .  .129 
SATAN  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL,  .  .  .  .137 
A  CHAPPIE,  THE  DUCHESS,  AND  CHIMMIE,  .  .  147 

CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  COURT 155 

CHIMMIE  ON  THE  STUMP 163 

CHIMMIE  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.  PAUL,    .        .        .175 


iv  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

OTHER  STORIES. 

A  LOST  CHORD 183 

AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE, 1° 

THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE, S*v 

THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY 215 

ANDRE  WAS  FRESH 227 

"ME  SIDE-PARDNER," 237 

AT  THE  OLIVEDO, 249 

BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES, 261 

MAJOR  MAX   STORIES. 

THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH, 273 

No  ONE  IN  TOWN, 283 

AT  THE  FRENCH  BALL, 289 

ANONYMJE  AT  PYRAMID  CITY,        ....  303 

A  CELESTIAL  STRIKE, 309 

How  TO  BE  ESTEEMED  THOUGH  WITTY,        .        .313 

THE  NEW  EDITOR 319 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"Well,  I'd  had  his  odder  ear  off  if  the    cop  hadn't 
snatched  me,"  .....     Frontispiece 

"When  I  sees  a  mug  wid  a  dyed  mustache  kinder  jolt 
agin'  her,  and  he  raises  his  dicer  and  grins,"        .       3 

"Den  'is  Whiskers  called  me  in, "          .         .         .         .43 

" 'Cert'nly,  me  dear  Hortense, '  I  says,  chuckin'  her 
under  de  chin,"        .......  152 

"His  bared  and  battered   head   was  upturned  to  the 
glittering  stars, "       .......  190 

"  You  are  really  a  very  handsome  girl,  as  I  supposed, ".  269 

" '  You  no  like  my  cooking,  me  no  cook, '  that  heathen 
answered," 310 

"  'Are  you  the  editor?'  he  asked  softly,"       .  343 


The  "Chimmie  Fadden"  and  "Major  Max" 
stories  were  written  for  and  first  published  in  the 
New  York  Sun.  They  are  repuhlished  in  this 
form  by  permission  of  Mr.  Charles  A.  Dana; 
editor  of  The  Sun. 

The  "  Other  Stories"  were  written  for  and  first 
published  in  the  San  Francisco  Argonaut.  They 
are  republished  in  this  form  by  permission  of  Mr. 
Jerome  A.  Hart,  editor  of  the  Argonaut. 

"The  New  Editor,"  included  in  this  volume, 
has  not  before  been  published. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS. 


*  O  AY,  I'm  a  dead  easy  winner  to-day.  See? 
It's  a  fiver,  sure  'nough.  Say,  I  could  give 
Jay  Gould  weight  fer  age  an'  lose  'im  in  a  walk 
as  a  winner.  See?  How'd  I  collar  it?  Square. 
See?  Dead  square,  an'  easy.  Want  it  fer  a  story? 
Why,  sure. 

"  Say,  you  know  me.  When  I  useter  sell  poipers, 
wasn't  I  a  scrapper?  Dat's  right,  ain't  it?  Was 
dere  a  kid  on  Park  Row  I  didn't  do?  Sure. 
Well,  say,  dis  mornin'  I  seed  a  loidy  I  know  cross- 
in'  de  Bow'ry.  See?  Say,  she's  a  torrowbred, 
an'  dat  goes.  Say,  do  you  know  wot  I've  seed  her 
done?  I've  seed  her  feedin'  dem  kids  wot  gets 
free  turk  on  Christmas  by  dose  east  side  mission- 
ers.  She's  one  of  dem  loidies  wot  comes  down 
here  an'  fixes  up  old  women  and  kids  coz  dey  likes 
it.  Dat's  right. 

"  Well,  say,  I  was  kinder  lookin'  at  'er  when  I 
sees  a  mug  wid  a  dyed  mustache  kinder  jolt  ag'in 
'er,  an'  he  raises  his  dicer  an'  grins.  See?  Say, 
dat  sets  me  crazy.  Lemme  tell  ye.  Remember 
when  der  truck  run  over  me  toes?  Well,  I 
couldn't  sell  no  poipers  nor  nutting  den.  See? 


4  CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS. 

Say,  she  was  de  loidy  wot  comes  ter  me  room  wid 
grub  an'  reads  ter  me.  Dat's  what  she  done. 

"  Well,  I  runs  up  to  her  dis  mornin',  an'  I  says: 
"Scuse  me,  loidy,  but  shall  I  tump  der  mug?' 

"  She  was  kinder  white  in  de  gills,  but  dere  was 
fight  in  her  eye.  Say,  when  yer  scrap  yer  watches 
de  odder  felly's  eye,  don't  ye?  Yer  kin  always 
see  fight  in  de  eye.  Dat's  right.  Well,  say,  dere 
was  fight  in  her  eye.  When  I  speaks  to  her  she 
kinder  smiles  an'  says:  'Oh,  dat's  you,  is  it, 
Chimmie?' 

"Say,  she  remembered  me  name.  Well,  she 
says:  'If  you'll  tump  de  mug'— no,  dat  wasn't 
wot  she  says — 'If  you'll  trash  de  cur  I'll  give  yer 
somethin','  an'  she  pulled  out  her  wad  an'  flashed 
up  a  fiver.  Den  she  says  somethin'  about  it  not 
being  Christian,  but  de  example  would  be  good. 
I  don't  know  what  she  meaned,  but  dat's  straight. 
See?  Wot  she  says  goes,  wedder  I'm  on  or  not. 

"'Can  you  trash  'im,  Chimmie?'  she  says. 

"'Can  I?'     I  says.     'I'll  put  a  new  face  on 'im.' 

"  Den  I  went  fer  'im.  Say,  I  jolted  'im  in  de 
belly  so  suddent  he  was  paralyzed.  See?  Den  I 
give  'im  de  heel,  an'  over  he  went  in  de  mud,  an' 
me  on  top  of  'im.  Say,  you  should  have  seed  us ! 
Well,  I'd  had  his  odder  ear  off  if  de  cop  hadn't 
snatched  me. 


"WHEN  i  SEKS  A  MUG  WID  A  DYED  MUSTACHE  KINDER  JOLT  AGIN'  'EH,  AN' 

HE   RAISES   HIS   DICER  AND    GRINS.  " — Page  3. 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS.  5 

"  Say,  he  ran  me  in,  but  it  wasn't  ten  minutes 
before  she  come  dere  and  squared  me.  See? 
When  she  got  me  outside  she  was  kinder  laffin' 
an'  cryin',  but  she  give  me  de  fiver  an'  says:  'I 
hope  de  Lord'll  forgive  me,  Chimmie,  for  leadin' 
yer  into  temptation,  but  yer  done  'im  brown. ' 

"Dat's  right;  dem's  'er  very  words.  No,  not 
'done  'im  brown;'  dat's  wot  dey  meaned — say, 
'trashed  'im  well.'  Dat's  right.  'Trashed  'im 

well,'  was  her  very  words.     See?'  " 

****** 

"  Say,  I  knowed  ye'd  be  paralyzed  wen  ye  seed 
me  in  dis  harness.  It's  up  in  G,  ain't  it?  Dat's 
right.  Say — remember  metellin'  ye  'bout  demug 
I  t'umped  ferde  loidy  on  de  Bowery?  de  loidy  wot 
give  me  de  five  and  squared  me  wid  der  perlice? 
Dat's  right.  Well,  say,  she  is  a  torrowbred,  an' 
dat  goes.  See?  Dat  evenin'  wot  d'ye  tink  she 
done?  She  brought  'is  Whiskers  ter  see  me. 

"ISTaw,  I  ain't  stringin'  ye.  'Is  Whiskers  is  de 
loidy's  fadder.  Sure. 

"  'E  comes  ter  me  room  wid  der  loidy,  'is  Whis 
kers  does,  an'  he  says,  says  'e,  'Is  dis  Chimmie 
Fadden?'  says  'e. 

" 'Yer  dead  on,'  says  I. 

'"Wot  fell?'  'e  says,  turning  to  'is  daughter. 
'Wot  does  de  young  man  say?'  'e  says. 


6  CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS. 

"  Den  de  loidy  she  kinder  smiled — say,  yer  otter 
seed  'er  smile.  Say,  it's  cutter  sight.  Dat's  right. 
Well,  she  says:  'I  tink  I  understan'  Chimmie's 
langwudge,'  she  says.  '  'E  means  'e  is  de  kid  yuse 
lookin'  fer.  'E's  der  very  mug.' 

"Dat's  wot  she  says;  somet'in'  like  dat,  only  a 
felly  can't  just  remember  'er  langwudge. 

"  Den  'is  Whiskers  gives  me  a  song  an'  dance 
'bout  me  bein'  a  brave  young  man  fer  t'umpin'  der 
mug  wot  insulted  'is  daughter,  an'  'bout  'is  heart 
bein'  all  broke  dat  'is  daughter  should  be  doin' 
missioner  work  in  der  slums. 

"I  says,  'Wot  fell;'  but  der  loidy,  she  says, 
'Chimmie,'  says  she,  'me  fadder  needs  a  footman,' 
she  says,  'an'  I  taut  you'd  be  de  very  mug  fer  der 
job,'  says  she.  See? 

"  Say,  I  was  all  broke  up,  an'  couldn't  say  not- 
tin',  fer  'is  Whiskers  was  so  solemn.  See? 

"'Wofs  yer  lay  now?'  says  'is  Whiskers,  or 
somet'in'  like  dat." 

"  Say,  I  could  'ave  give  'im  a  string  'bout  i&e 
bein'  a  hard-workin'  boy,  but  I  knowed  der  loidy 
was  dead  on  ter  me,  so  I  only  says,  says  I,  'Wot 
fell?'  says  I,  like  dat,  'Wot  fell?'  See? 

"  Den  'is  Whiskers  was  kinder  paralyzed  like, 
an'  'e  turns  to  'is  daughter  an  'e  says,  dese  is  'is 
very  words,  'e  says : 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS.          7 

"'Really,  Fannie,'  'e  says,  'really,  Fannie,  you 
must  enterpert  dis  young  man's  langwudge,'  'e 
says.  See? 

"  Den  she  laffs  an'  says,  says  she : 

"'Chimmie  is  a  good  boy  if  'e  only  had  a 
chance, '  she  says. 

"Den  'is  Whiskers  'esays,  'I  dare  say,' like  dat. 
See?  'I  dare  say.'  See?  Say,  did  ye  ever  'ere 
words  like  dem?  Say,  I  was  fer  tellin'  'is  Whiskers 
ter  git  fell  outter  dat,  only  fer  der  loidy.  See? 

"  Well,  den  we  all  give  each  odder  a  song  an' 
dance,  an'  de  end  was  I  was  took  fer  a  footman. 
See?  Tiger,  ye  say?  Naw,  dey  don't  call  me  no 
tiger. 

"  Say,  wouldn't  de  gang  on  der  Bow'ry  be 
paralyzed  if  dey  seed  me  in  dis  harness?  Ain't  it 
great?  Sure!  Wotamldoin'?  Well,  I'm  doin' 
pretty  well.  I  had  ter  furnpa  felly  dey  calls  de 
butler  de  first  night  I  was  dere  for  callin'  me  a 
heathen.  See?  Say,  dere's  a  kid  in  der  house 
wot  opens  der  front  door  wen  youse  ring  de  bell, 
an'  I  win  all  'is  boodle  de  second  night  I  was  dere 
showin'  'imhow  ter  play  Crusoe.  Say,  it's  a  dead 
easy  game,  but  der  loidy  she  axed  me  not  to  bunco 
de  farmers — deys  all  farmers  up  in  dat  house,  dead 
farmers — so  I  leaves  'em  alone.  'Scuse  me  now, 
dats  me  loidy  comin'  outer  der  shop.  I  opens  de 


8  CHIMMIE  FADDEN  MAKES  FRIENDS. 

door  of  de  carriage  an'  she  says,  'Home,  Chames.' 
Den  I  jumps  on  de  box  an'  strings  de  driver. 
Say,  'e's  a  farmer  too.  I'll  tell  you  some  more 
'bout  de  game  next  time.  So  long." 


CHIMMIE  ENTERS  POLITE  SOCIETY. 


"OAY,  if  I  didn't  come  near  gittin'  de  gran' 
bounce,  de  straight  trim  out,  me  name's  not 
Chimmie  Fadden.  Dat's  right.  Sure,  en  say,  'is 
Whiskers  was  crazy. 

"Listen.  De  old  mug  calls  me  'a  unregenerate 
heathen!'  Did  ye  ever  hear  such  langwudge? 
I'm  gettin'  on  to  dem  big  words,  sure.  'Un-re- 
gen-er-ate.'  Say,  dat'snot  bad  fer  a  mug  like  me. 
How'd  it  happen?  Easy.  Trouble  allus  comes 
dead  easy  ter  me.  See?  I'd  a  been  trun  out  bod'ly 
'cept  fer  der  loidy,  Miss  Fannie.  Yes,  we  calls 
'er  Miss  Fannie.  All  de  hands  calls  'er  Miss 
Fannie,  sure. 

"  It  was  dis  way.  Dey  gives  a  party  up  dere  de 
odder  night.  Say,  dey's  allus  given  parties  dere. 
See?  Well,  de  mug  dey  calls  de  butler — de  one  I 
had  de  scrap  wid — 'e  says  ter  me,  says  'e,  'e  says, 
'Chames,'  says  'e,  'Chames,  you'll  help  de  kitchen 
servants  to-night, '  'e  says. 

"'T'ell  I  will,'  I  says.  See?  I  says,  'T'ell  I 
will.' 

"But  Miss  Fannie,  she  makes  a  sneak  ter  de 
barn,  where  I  wasteachin'  de  coachman's  kid  how 

ter  pat  fer  a  jig,  an'  she  says,  says  she : 

11 


12        CHIMMIE  ENTERS  POLITE  SOCIETY. 

"'Chimmie,'  she  says.  'Chimmie,  you'll  do 
what  de  butler  tells  ye,  or  I'll  break  yer  face,'  she 
says,  Miss  Fannie  does.  See? 

"  Naw,  not  dem  words,  but  dat's  wat  dey  means. 
Say,  a  felley  can't  allus  be  'memberin'  just  de 
words  dose  folks  use.  But  dat's  wot  dey  means. 

"'Dat  goes,  Miss  Fannie,'  I  says.  'Dat  goes,' 
says  I,  fer  what  she  says  goes  if  I  have  ter  lick  de 
biggest  mug  on  eart'  to  make  it  go.  See? 

"  Well,  as  I  was  tellin'  ye,  dey  gives  de  party 
an'  I  helps  in  de  kitchen.  Say,  it  'ud  killed  ye 
dead  ter  seed  me.  Apron?  Sure!  an  apron  wid 
strings  on  it,  an'  it  comes  down  ter  me  feet. 
Dat's  right.  I  kuowed  't  would  kill  ye. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  tellin'  ye,  I  helps  in  de  kitchen 
widde  heavy  stuff,  an'  I  never  tuk  so  much  jawin' 
in  me  life.  Say,  I'd  a  slugged  de  whole  gang  of 
dose  farmers  if  it  hadn't  been  fer  makin'  a  racket 
wot  ud  queered  Miss  Fannie;  she  bein'  me  backer, 
kinder.  Well,  bime-by  all  demugs  begins  feedin' 
in  a  big  room  where  dey's  a  little  room  offen  it  dey 
calls  de  pantrj'.  I  sneaks  in  dere  once  ter  look  at 
de  mugs,  like  all  de  kitchen  hands  was  sneakin' 
in,  and  dere  was  a  lot  of  bots  in  de  pantry,  an'  I 
just  naturl'y  swipes  one  under  me  dinkey  apron. 
See?  Dat's  right,  ain't  it? 

"  When  I  gets  a  chanst  I  trun  it  out'n  de  windy, 


CHIMMIE  ENTERS  POLITE  SOCIETY.         13 

aimin'  fer  de  grass;  but,  holy  gee!  it  hits  some 
mug  plunk  on  'is  nut.  Say,  I  was  near  crazy.  I 
snook  out  dere,  an'  dere  was  de  coachman's  kid 
chokin'  'isself  tryin'  not  to  howl,  wid  'is  'ead  in 
'is  paws,  where  de  bot  had  hit  'im  right  over  'is 
ear.  Dat's  right.  Sure. 

"'Oh,  it's  yuse,  Chimmie  Fadden,'  'e  says, 
says  'e.  'It's  yuse,  an'  yer  stealin'  champagne,' 
'e  says,  holdin'  up  de  bot  I'd  swiped. 

"  'I'm  stealin'  nottin',  yer  jay, '  I  says,  an'  I  gives 
'im  a  jolt  in  de  jaw,  see?  I  knowed  'e  couldn't 
howl,  an'  I  was  dyin  fer  a  scrap,  but  dere  was  no 
fight  in  'im,  see?  'E  only  says,  says  'e,  'give  me 
half  de  bot,'  'e  says,  'an'  I'll  not  tell  on  ye.' 

'"Dat  goes,'  I  says,  and  we  sneaked  de  bot  ter 
de  barn,  where  'e  opens  it.  Say,  did  ye  ever  drink 
dat  stuff,  champagne?  Holy  gee,  it's  rank!  It's 
like  beer  wid  sugar  an'  winigar  inter  it.  Sure. 
Dat's  right,  I  only  took  one  glass,  an'  dat's  all  de 
champagne  Chimmie  Fadden  wants.  I've  heered 
'em  jaw  'bout  Bowery  whiskey,  but  it's  milk 
'longside  dat  stuff.  Say,  it's  no  good. 

"Well,  I  sneaked  back  ter  der  kitchen  an'  left 
der  kid  wid  de  bot.  See?  Say,  if  de  kid  didn't 
collar  de  whole  bot  I'm  a  chump.  Sure.  De 
whole  bot,  I'm  tellin'  ye.  Dat's  right. 

"  Well,  after  de  party  de  coachman  finds  'is  kid 


14        CHIMMIE  ENTERS   POLITE  SOCIETY. 

paralzyed  on  de  barn  floor.  Paralyzed,  see?  All 
de  old  mug  could  get  out'n  de  young  mug  was  a 
song  an'  dance  'bout  me.  Say,  everyt'ing  dat 
goes  wrong  'bout  dat  barn,  it's  all  put  on  me. 
Sure. 

"  Well,  de  coachman  grabs  me  an'  takes  me  to 
'is  Whiskers,  who  was  talkin'  wid  Miss  Fannie 
'bout  de  party,  an'  'e  says,  says  'e: 

"'Dis  villian  has  murdered  me  son,'  'e  says. 

"  Say,  you'd  a  died  if  you'd  seen  de  picnic.  'Is 
Whiskers  was  all  broke  up,  an'  talks  crazy  'bout 
murder  comin'  ter  'is  house  tru  'is  daughter  tryin' 
ter  reform  de  slums. 

"'Murder  nothin,'  I  says.  'Wot  t'  'ell,'  I  says, 
like  dat.  I  says,  'Wot  t'  'ell.  De  kid's  nut 
is  cracked,  an'  'e's  punished  de  bot, '  I  says.  'Wot 
t'  'ell !  'E'll  be  all  right  in  de  mornin'. ' 

"  Say,  'is  Whiskers  couldn't  understan'  me,  so  de 
whole  gang  of  us,  'is  Whiskers,  Miss  Fannie, 
coachy,  an'  me,  goes  ter  de  barn.  Well,  you'd 
died  if  you'd  seen  de  kid.  He'd  kinder  taken  a 
brace,  an'  was  tryin'  ter  do  a  dance  I'd  teached 
'im.  He  had  de  bot  in  'is  arms  an'  was  singin'  a 
dinky  song  'bout  razzle-dazzle.  'Is  face  was  all 
blood  from  where  'is  nut  was  cracked  by  de  bot ; 
an'  holy  gee  'e  was  a  bute ! 

"  Say,  I  could  see  'is  Whiskers  wanted  ter  laugh, 


CHIMMIE  ENTERS  POLITE  SOCIETY.         15 

an'  Miss  Fannie  wanted  ter  cry,  an'  coachy  was 
struck  dead  dumb;  so,  nobody  sayin'  nottin',  I 
just  taut  I'd  be  social  like,  an'  so  I  just  chipped 
in  wid,  'Oh,  wot  a  diffrunce  in  de  mornin' !'  Den 
'is  Whiskers  says,  says  'e:  'Chimmie  Fadden,'  'e 
says,  'yuse  is  a  unregenerate  heathen,  an'  you'll 
have  to  go. ' 

"  Say,  wot  de  ye  tink  Miss  Fannie  done?  She 
says,  'No,  fadder,'  says  she;  'no,  I  tink  Chimmie 
is  not  de  only  sinner  here.  Give  'im  anodder 
chanst,'  she  says,  an'  she  pulled  de  old  mug's 
whiskers,  like  de  loidy  in  de  play.  Dat's  right. 
Dat's  wot  she  done.  Ain't  she  a  torrowbred? 

"  Well,  'is  Whiskers  says  somet'ing  'bout  its 
bein'  better  for  'im  ter  bring  de  slums  ter  Miss 
Fannie  radder  den  Miss  Fannie  goin'  ter  der  slums. 
Den  'e  tells  'er  ter  go  in  de  house,  an'  says  'e'll 
tend  ter  me.  Say,  mebby  yer  t'ink  'e  didn't. 
Well,  'e  took  me  in  de  harness-room  an'  'e  just 
everlastin'  lambasted  de  hide  off'n  me.  Sure. 
Say,  'is  Whiskers  is  a  regl'ar  scrapper.  See?  Say, 
'e  t'umped  me  good,  an'  dat's  right.  'E  says, 
says  'e: 

"  'Miss  Fannie'll  look  after  yer  soul  an'  I'll  look 
after  yer  hide, '  'e  says. 

"Say,  I'm  kinder  gettin'  stuck  on  'is  Whiskers. 

"Well,   so  long.      I've  got  ter  get  busy.     I'm 


16        CHIMMIE  ENTERS  POLITE  SOCIETY. 

takin'  a  note  from  Miss  Fannie  ter  'er  fadder. 
I'm  stuck  on  dat  job.  When  I  goes  ter  'is  office 
'e  gives  me  twenty-five  cents  ter  ride  home.  I 
walks,  an'  I  wins  de  boodle.  See?" 


CHIMMIE  MEETS  THE  DUCHESS. 


,  me  name's  Dennis,  an'  not  Chimmie 
Fadden,  if  dem  folks  up  dere  ain't  got  boodle 
ter  burn  a  wet  dog  wid.  Sure.  Boodle  ter  burn 
a  wet  dog  wid.  I'm  tellin'  yer,  and  dat's  right. 
See? 

"  Say,  dey  makes  it  dere  own  selves.  Naw,  I 
ain't  stringin'  yer.  It's  right.  How?  Listen: 
Miss  Fannie,  she  sent  fer  me,  an'  she  was  writin', 
she  was,  in  a  little  book,  an'  when  she  writ  a  page 
she  teared  it  out  an'  pinned  it  on  a  bill. 

'"Here,  Chames,'  she  says  ter  me,  she  says. 
'Here,  Chames,  take  dese  bills  an'  pay  dem,'  she 
says. 

"'Wot  fell  will  I  pay  dem  wid,  Miss  Fannie,' 
I  says.  Like  dat,  'Wot  fell  will  I  pay  dem  wid?' 
I  says.  See? 

"Say,  wot  der  yer  tink  she  says?  She  says, 
says  she,  'Pay  dem  wid  de  checks,  Chames,'  she 
says.  See?  'Dere's  a  check  pinned  on  every  bill, ' 
she  says. 

"Say,  I  taut  she  was  stringin'  me;  but  I  tinks 
ter  meself,  if  she  wants  ter  string  me,  it  goes.  See? 
Wot  Miss  Fannie  does  goes,  wedder  it  makes  me 

look  like  a  farmer  or  not.     Dat's  right. 

19 


20  CHIMMIE  MEETS   THE  DUCHESS. 

"  Well,  I  taut  I'd  get  a  roast  when  I'd  try  ter 
pass  off  dose  tings  she  writ  out  fer  boodle.  See? 
Wot  do  yer  tink?  Why,  every  one  'er  dose  mugs 
— dere  was  a  candy  store,  an'  dere  was  a  flower 
store,  an'  dere  was  a  store  where  dey  sells  womin's 
hats,  an',  holy  gee!  dere  was  all  kind  er  stores — all 
dose  mugs,  I'm  tellin'  ye,  dey  just  takes  off  der 
hats  when  I  shoved  de  boodle  Miss  Fannie  made 
at  'em.  Dat's  right.  Dat  boodle  was  as  good  as 
nickels.  Sure. 

"  Well,  I  was  clean  parylized,  an'  when  I  gits 
home  an'  was  goin'  ter  Miss  Fannie  wid  de  bills  I 
meets  a  mug  in  de  hall  dey  calls  de  walley.  Say, 
all  dat  mug  does  fer  'is  wages  is  ter  take  care  of 
'is  Whiskers's  whiskers.  Sure.  'E  is  'is  Whisk- 
ers's  walley.  When  'is  Whiskers  wants  a  clean 
shirt  dat  walley  gits  it  for  'im,  and  tings  like  dat. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  dat  snap  meself,  only  'is 
Whiskers  is  a  reg'lar  scrapper  an'  can  do  me. 

"  Well,  I  was  tellin'  yer  'bout  meetin'  de  walley 
in  de  hall.  I  told  'im  dat  Miss  Fannie  could  make 
boodle  outter  paper,  just  like  de  President  er  der 
United  States. 

"  Say,  wot  de  yer  tink  dat  mug  done?  'E  gives 
me  de  laugh.  See?  Gives  me  de  laugh,  an'  says 
I'm  a  ig'rant  wagabone. 

"'Wot  fell!'  I  says  ter 'im.     '  I  may  be  a  waga- 


CHIMMIE  MEETS   THE  DUCHESS.  21 

bone,'  I  says,  'but  I'm  not  ig'rant,'  I  says,  like  dat. 
'Wot  fell.'  See? 

'"Miss  Fannie  can't  make  boodle,'  says  'e,  'no 
more  nor  I  kin,'  'e  says.  'Dem's  checks,'  'e  says. 

"  Say,  I  was  kinder  layin'  fer  dat  dude,  anyhow, 
'cause  'e  is  allus  roastin'  me.  So  when  'e  says 
dat,  I  gives  'im  a  jolt  in  de  jaw.  See?  Say,  'e 
squared  'isself  in  pretty  good  shape,  an'  I  taut  I 
had  a  good  scrap  on  me  hands,  when  in  comes  Miss 
Fannie's  maid. 

"Say,  she's  a  doisy.  Yer  otter  see  'er.  I'm 
dead  stuck  on  'er.  She's  French,  an'  talks  a  forn 
langwudge  mostly. 

"  When  she  showed  up  in  de  hall  I  drops  me 
hands,  an'  de  odder  mug  e'  drops  'is  hands,  an'  I 
gives  'er  a  wink  an'  says : 

"  'Ah  dere,  Duchess !'  like  dat.  See?  'Ah  dere, 
Duchess !' 

"  Den  I  chases  meself  over  ter  'er  and  trows  me 
arms  'round  'er  an'  gives  'er  a  kiss. 

"Say,  yer  otter  seed  dat  walley!  I  taut  I'd  die! 
Holy  gee,  'e  was  crazy !  'E  flies  outter  de  hall, 
but  I  didn't  know  den  wot  'is  game  was.  I  soon 
tumbled,  dough. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  a-telling  ye,  I  gives  de  Duchess 
a  kiss,  an'  she  says  'Vat  on,'  like  clat.  Dat's  'er 
forn  lanwgudge.  'Vat  on.'  See? 


22  CHIMMIE  MEETS   THE  DUCHESS. 

"Howde  yer  say  it  is?  'Va-t-en?'  Is  it 'get 
out?' 

"Holy  gee!     Is  dat  so? 

"Well,  seem'  as  how  I  wasn't  onto  'er  lan- 
gwudge,  den,  I  gives  'er  anodder  kiss. 

"Dat's  right,  ain't  it?  When  a  felley  meets  a 
Duchess  'e's  stuck  on,  it's  right  ter  give  'er  a  kiss, 
ain't  it?  Sure. 

"  Well,  she  runs  a  big  bluff  of  prertendin'  not  ter 
like  it,  an'  says  'lace  moy'  and  'finny  say.' 

"How  de  yer  say  it  is?  'Finissez?'  Naw,  dat 
ain't  right.  'Finney  say,'  she  says,  says  she,  but 
'er  langwudge  bein'  forn  I  wasn't  dead  on  all  de 
time,  an'  so  I  says  nothin'  but  just  kept  busy,  I 
kept. 

"  Say,  I  was  pretty  busy  when  in  tru  de  door 
comes.  Miss  Fannie  and  dat  mug,  de  walley,  an' 
catched  me.  Dat's  wot  dat  mug  went  out  fer,  ter 
give  me  snap  away  ter  Miss  Fannie. 

"Say,  but  Miss  Fannie  was  red!  An'  pretty! 
She  was  just  pretty  up  ter  de  limit,  I'm  tellin'  ye. 
Up  ter  de  limit.  See? 

"She  gives  me  a  look,  an'  I  was  parylized. 
See? 

"But,  holy  gee!  Ye  otter  seed  de  Duchess. 
She  was  as  cool  an'  smooth  as  ever  yer  seed  any 
body  in  yer  life.  I  taut  she'd  be  parylized,  but — 


CHIMMIE  MEETS   THE  DUCHESS.  23 

say,  womin  is  queer  folks,  anyhow,  an'  ye  never 
know  wat  fell  dey'll  do  'till  dey  do  it.  Sure. 

"Miss  Fannie,  she  began  talkin'  dat  forn  lan- 
gwudge  ter  de  Duchess,  but  de  Duchess  she 
humped  'er  shoulders  an'  she  humped  'er  eyebrows 
an'  looked  as  surprised  as  if  she'd  put  on  her  shoe 
wid  a  mouse  in  it. 

"Den  de  Duchess  she  says,  says  she,  talkin' 
English,  but  kinder  dago  like — de  kind  er  dago 
dat  French  folks  talk  when  dey  talks  English. 
See?  She  says,  says  she : 

"  'Meester  Cheemes  'e  don't  do  nottin,'  she  says, 
like  dat,  see? 

"Say,  wasn't  dat  great?  Are  ye  on?  See? 
Why,  yuse  must  be  a  farmer :  I  was  dead  on  ter 
onct.  Say,  de  Duchess  talked  English  ter  tip  me, 
see?  She  didn't  want  me  ter  give  de  game  away. 

"  Miss  Fannie,  she  was  dead  on  too,  fer  she  got 
redder,  an'  looked  just  like  a  actress  on  top  er  de 
stage,  sure.  She  told  de  Duchess  ter  talk  dat  forn 
langwudge,  I  guess,  fer  dey  jawed  away  like  a 
ambiance  gong,  an'  I  was  near  crazy,  fer  I  taut  I 
was  gettin'  de  gran'  roast  an'  I  couldn't  under- 
stan'  dere  talk,  see? 

"  'Bout  de  time  I  taut  I'd  drop  dead  fer  not 
knowin'  wot  fell  dey  was  sayin,'  Miss  Fannie 
she  turns  ter  me  an'  says,  says  she: 


24  CHIMMIE  MEETS   THE  DUCHESS. 

"'Chames,'  she  says,  'wot  was  yer  doin'  of?' 
she  says. 

"'Nottin,'  I  says;  'nottin'  'tall,  Miss  Fannie,' 
says  I,  'onty  askin'  de  Duchess  where  fell  yer 
was,'  I  say,  'so  I  could  give  yer  de  bills  wot  I  paid 
wid  de  boodle, '  I  says. 

"Then  Miss  Fannie  she  taut  er  while,  an'  she 
says  suddent,  says  she:  'Wot  did  she  say  when 
yer  ast  'er  where  I  was?'  she  says. 

"Say,  dere  was  where  I  was  a  farmer,  a  dead 
farmer.  'Stid  of  chippin'  in  wid  a  song  and  dance 
'bout  something  or  nodder,  I  was  so  stuck  on  me 
langwudge  dat  I  said  dose  words  de  Duchess 
spoke,  wot  I  was  tellin'  ye  of:  'vat  on,'  an'  'lace 
moy,'  an'  'finney  say.' 

"Say,  wot  fell  do  dem  words  mean,  anyhow? 

"Holy  gee!  is  dat  so?  'get  out,'  an'  'let  me  be,' 
and  '  stop. ' 

"Say,  holy  gee,  I  was  a  farmer,  an'  dafs 
right. 

"  Well,  when  I  said  dem  four  words  Miss  Fan 
nie  she  bit  her  lips,  an'  twisted  her  mouth  like 
she'd  die  if  she  didn't  laugh.  But  de  Duchess,  she 
gives  me  one  look  like  she'd  like  ter  do  me,  an' 
chased  'erself  outter  der  hall.  An'  me  stuck  on 
'er,  too! 

"  Say,  womin  is  queer  folks,  anyhow ;  an'  when 


CHIMMIE  MEETS   THE  DUCHESS.  25 

yer  stuck  on  yerself  de  most  dat's  when  dey  trows 
yer  down  de  hardest.     See? 

"  Say,  fallin'  in  love  has  taut  dis  mug  one  ting, 
dead.  I  don't  go  monkeyin'  wid  no  forn  lan- 
gwudge  no  more.  Sure.  Straight  English  is 
'bout  me  size.  See?" 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  DEEP  WATER. 


,  ye  remember  me  tellin'  ye  'bout  de  Duch 
ess,  Miss  Fannie's  French  maid,  wot  trim 
me  down  jess  as  I  was  gittin'  stuck  on  me- 
self?  Well,  say,  she's  a  chim  dandy,  and  dat 
goes.  After  dat  row,  wen  I  gives  her  away  by 
sayin'  dose  forn  langwudge  words  wot  she  said, 
she  was  dead  sore  on  me.  I  tries  me  best  ter  jolly 
'er  up,  but  de  game  didn't  work,  an'  I  was  all 
broke  up,  'cause  I  am  stuck  on  de  Duchess.  See? 

"  Well,  de  odder  day  Miss  Fannie  she  sent  out 
ter  de  barn  an'  says  she  wants  her  cart  sent  roun', 
an'  dat  I  was  to  go  wid  'er. 

"  De  cart  is  a  little  waggin  wid  only  two  wheels, 
an'  I  rides  up  be'ind  wid  me  back  ter  de  boss,  an' 
Miss  Fannie,  she  drives.  Say,  mebby  ye  tink  she 
can't  drive?  Wy,  she  drives  out  er  sight;  up  ter 
de  limit,  I'm  tellin'  ye.  Well,  as  I  was  a-holdin' 
de  boss  in  front  of  de  house,  out  comes  Miss  Fan 
nie  wid  de  Duchess,  and  dey  gits  in  de  front  seat 
and  I  jumps  up  be'ind.  Say,  I  was  tickled  ter 
deaf,  fer  we  was  a-goin'  out  ter  a  'ospital,  fell  and 
gone  beyond  de  Park,  an'  I  taut  I'd  git  er  chance 

ter  jolly  de  Duchess  when  Miss  Fannie  goes  inter 

29 


30        CHIMM1E  FADDEN  IN  DEEP   WATER. 

de  'ospital  wid  nice  grub  fer  de  kids  wot  'as  queer 
backs  an'  crooked  legs.  See? 

"Well,  w'en  we  gits  ter  de  'ospital  I  jumps 
down  ter  hold  de  boss,  an'  Miss  Fannie  she  gits 
outer  de  cart  an'  tells  de  Duchess  ter  chase  'erself 
in  wid  de  grub. 

"Say,  I  tink  Miss  Fannie  was  dead  onter  me 
game  ter  jolly  de  Duchess,  an'  dat's  w'y  she 
chases  'er  in  der  'ospital.  But  de  Duchess  she's 
fly,  she  is;  fly  up  ter  de  limit,  an'  she  leaves  one 
of  de  bundles  of  grub  in  de  cart.  Pretty  soon  she 
comes  chasing  out  after  de  bundle  wot  she  left, 
an'  she  gives  me  er  wink  an'  says,  wid  'er  dago 
talk,  de  kind  er  dago  French  folks  talk  w'en  dey 
talks  English,  an'  she  says,  says  she,  'Cheemie, ' 
she  says,  'yer  a  leetle  brute,'  she  says  like  dat, 
see?  'Yer  a  leetle  brute.' 

"'Yer  a  angel,  Duchess,'  I  says,  'yer  a  angel, 
an'  ye  broke  me  all  up  w'en  yuse  trim  me  down,' 
says  I,  an'  I  gives  'er  a  paralyzing  smile.  See? 

"'Vat  ye  mean  by  truii  ye  down?'  says  de 
Duchess,  wile  she  makes  'er  bluff  of  not  findin'  de 
bundle. 

"Say,  wen  she  says  dat  I  know'd  she  was  jess 
givin'  me  a  song  an'  dance  'bout  me  bein'  a  brute. 
See?  I  know'd  from  de  way  she  says  it,  an'  I 
seed  dat  she  foun'  de  bundle,  but  wasn't  breakin' 


CHJMMIE  MADDEN  IN  DEEP  WATER.      31 

'er  neck  a  chasin'  'erself  in  wid  it.  So  I  says, 
says  I:  'Duchess,'  I  says,  purlite  as  could  be,  says 
I:  'Duchess,  if  dere  was  no  mugs  aroun'  'ere  I'd 
give  yer  a  kiss,'  I  says. 

"  Well,  she  kinder  laughs  an'  says:  'Mebbe  dere 
won't  be  no  one  roun'  w'en  ye  brings  in  Miss  Fan 
nied  rug,  wot  I'll  leave  in  de  cart  w'en  we'se  git 
'ome,'  says  she.  Den  she  chases  'erself  in  de 
'ospital. 

"Say,  now,  on  de  dead  level,  ain't  she  up  ter  de 
limit?  Are  ye  on  to  de  tip  she  was  a  givin'  me? 
I  wonder! 

"  Well,  jess  as  she  made  'er  snealt  a  mug  comes 
along  on  hossback,  an'  'e  kinder  pipes  off  de  Duch 
ess,  an'  den  'e  pipes  off  me,  and  den  'e  pipes  off  de 
cart,  an'  wid  dat  'e  stops  'is  hoss. 

"  De  mug  was  no  dude,  I  could  tell  dat,  but  'e 
kinder  wore  close  like  er  dude. 

"W'en  'e  stops  'e  says  ter  me,  says  'e:  'Whose 
groom  is  yuse?' 

'"I  ain't  nobody's  groom,'  I  says.  'I  was  hired 
for  a  footman.  Dat's  wot  Miss  Fannie  says,  an' 
wot  she  says  goes, '  I  says. 

"  Say,  w'en  I  says  dat  e'  kinder  looks  queer,  and 
'e  rides  off  an'  den  'e  rides  back.  I  was  dead 
crazy  'cause  I  couldn't  git  onto  'is  curves.  I  was 
jess  tinking  of  trunning  a  rock  at  'is  hoss  w'en  'e 


32        CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  DEEP  WATER. 

says:  "Ere's  something  fer  yuse,'  'e  says,  an'  'e 
gives  me  a  plunk. 

"  Don't  yer  know  wot  a  plunk  is?  W'y  it's  er 
case,  er  doller.  Sa}',  youse  ain't  as  fly  as  I  taut. 
Sure. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  a  tellin '  ye,  'e  gives  me  a  plunk, 
an'  den  'e  gives  me  a  letter,  an'  tells  me  ter  give 
it  ter  Miss  Fannie.  De  letter,  I  mean. 

"  Den  I  was  worse  off  'is  curves  dan  before,  but 
de  mug  was  a  gent  or  I'm  a  farmer,  so  I  jess  says, 
'Tanks,  boss,'  an'  'e  rides  off.  See? 

"Well,  I  taut  I'd  keep  de  letter  ter  give  ter  de 
Duchess  ter  give  ter  Miss  Fannie.  Ye  see,  worn  in 
is  queer  folks,  an'  dey  allus  is  crazy  ter  be  let  in 
on  der  game,  wotever  it  is,  an'  I  taut  if  I'd  give 
de  mug's  letter  ter  de  Duchess  first  it  would  make 
me  solid  wid  her.  See? 

"  Well,  w'en  we  gits  home  de  Duchess  leaves  de 
rug  in  de  cart,  like  she  says  she  would,  an'  I  chases 
in  wid  it  from  de  barn.  De  Duchess  was  waitin' 
fer  me,  an'  I  gives  'er  de  letter.  Say,  she  nearly 
had  a  fit.  Sure.  She  made  me  tell  de  whole  snap 
over  a  tousan'  times;  an'  den  wot  de  ye  tink  she 
done?  She  trun  her  arms  aroun'  me,  an'  gives 
me  a  hug  an'  a  kiss  dat  nearly  done  me.  Den  she 
runs  away.  Say,  I'm  tellin'  ye  straight,  I  was  so 
dead  stuck  on  meself  dat  I  beeran  doin'  a  dance 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  DEEP  WATER.         33 

right  dere.  But,  holy  gee!  A  mug  wot  tinks  Vs 
in  it  w'en  'is  Duchess  jollies  'im  fer  doin'  some- 
t'ing  she  likes,  dat  mug  is  a  dead  farmer.  It  ain't 
yuse  wot's  in  it,  it's  wot  yuse  done  wot's  in  it. 
See? 

"  In  less'n  no  time  de  Duchess  comes  chasing 
back  wid  'er  cheeks  afire,  an'  weeps  in  'er  eyes, 
an'  she  gives  me  a  crack  in  de  jaw  wot  knocked 
me  silly. 

"'Wot  fell?'  I  says.  Wid  dat  she  gives  me 
back  de  letter  and  gives  me  anodder  crack. 

'"Dat's  wot  I  got,' she  says.  'How  you  like 
'im?' 

"  Den  she  tells  me  de  mug  is  a  gent  wot  Miss 
Fannie's  fadder,  'is  Whiskers,  ye  know,  is  dead 
sore  on,  but  dat  Miss  Fannie  she  was  dead  stuck 
on  'im,  but  'is  Whiskers  wouldn't  have  'im  dere. 
De  mug  'ad  been  away  in  forn  parts  an'  jess  come 
back.  De  Duchess  taut  Miss  Fannie  would  like 
de  letter,  but  she  was  dead  sore  on  de  Duchess  for 
givin'  it  ter  'er,  an'  wouldn't  open  it  ter  read  wot 
was  writ  on  de  inside. 

"  'Den  she's  dead  sore  on  me,  too,'  says  I. 

"Well,  wot  de  yuse  tink?  De  Duchess  said  she 
never  gave  me  away  ter  Miss  Fannie!  Sure.  Dem 
women  folks  has  curves  in  der  brains  a  mug  never 
can  tumble  to.  An'  dat  goes.  De  game  is  too 


34        CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  DEEP   WATER. 

slick  fer  Chimmie  Fadden,  sure.  I  gets  a  letter 
from  a  mug  wot  Miss  Fannie  likes,  an'  gives  it 
ter  de  Duchess.  De  Duchess  gives  me  a  kiss  fer 
givin'  'er  de  letter,  cause  'er  maid  allus  stan's  in 
wid  de  mug  wot  de  fadder  is  sore  on.  I'm  on  ter 
dat  much.  Den  Miss  Fannie  she  jumps  de  Duchess 
fer  givin'  'er  de  mug's  letter,  an'  de  Duchess  she 
jumps  me,  but  she  never  queered  me  wid  Miss 
Fannie  by  tellin'  dat  I  was  de  mug  wot  collars  de 
letter.  She  does  biff  me  in  de  jaw,  dough,  an' 
dat's  wot  sets  me  crazy.  See? 

"  Say,  I'm  tinkin'  women  allers  does  a  ting  'cause 
dey  don't  wantter:  or  mebbe  dey  don't  wantter 
'cause  dey  can.  Dere  curves  is  too  much  fer  a 
farmer  like  me. 

"Well,  so  long.  I'm  goin'  ter  a  club  down  'ere 
ter  take  dat  letter  back  ter  de  mug.  I  wonder  will 
'e  want  dat  plunk  back.  Well,  de  plunk  don't 
go.  See?" 


CHIMMIE  OBSERVES  CLUB  LIFE. 


"OAY,  wot  fell  is  dem  clubs,  anyhow?  'Mem 
ber  me  tellin'  ye  'bout  takin'  back  de  letter 
to  de  mug  wot  I  give  de  Duchess  fer  Miss  Fannie? 
Naw,  not  de  mug  I  give  de  Duchess,  but  de  letter. 
Sa}T,  don't  yuse  get  funn}^  wid  me.  See? 

"  Well,  I  goes  to  de  club  wot  de  Duchess  tells 
me  an'  rings  de  bell,  an'  er  Buttons  e'  opens  de 
door,  an'  I  asks  fer  de  mug  wot  de  Duchess  tells 
me.  See?  Buttons  'e  wants  ter  know  has  I  er 
message  fer  de  gent,  an'  I  sa}'s  I  has,  an'  'e  says 
ter  give  it  t'  'im.  I  tells  'im  not  on  'is  life;  dat  I 
mus'  see  de  gent  meself.  Well,  'e  takes  me  ter  a 
little  room  an'  leaves  me  dere,  wile  'e  chases  'isself 
off  ater  de  gent.  See? 

"  Den  I  seed  de  queerest  fakes  ye  ever  seed  in 
yer  life. 

"Dere  was  mugs  an'  mugs  waltzes  in  an'  gives 
dere  coats  to  de  Buttons,  but  dey  keeps  on  der 
dicers  an'  der  canes,  an'  den  dey  mostly  goes  in 
er  room  wid  little  tables  an'  orders  drinks.  Say, 
dere  wasn't  er  mug  pays  fer  'is  drink  all  de  time 
I  was  dere.  Dat's  right,  sure.  Dey'd  get  dere 
drinks  an'  den  write  wid  a  pencil  on  er  piece  er 


38  CHIMMIE  OBSERVES   CLUB  LIFE. 

paper  de  Buttons  gives  'em.  Say,  I  tink  I'm  on 
ter  dat  game.  Dey  was  doiii'  wot  Miss  Fannie 
done  de  time  I  was  tellin'  ye  of  w'en  she  makes 
money  by  jes'  writin'  on  er  piece  er  paper.  Dat 
was  wot  'is  Wiskers's  walley  called  er  check. 

"Well,  as  I  was  er  tellin'  ye,  I  was  in  de  little 
room  wen  pritty  soon  de  gent  I  was  after  comes 
in.  See?  'E  was  harnessed  out  in  'is  riding 
close,  an'  'e  carries  dat  little  dinky  wip  wot  gents 
carries  wen  dey  rides.  See?  Know  what  I  mean? 
One  er  dem  little  sawed-off  wips  widout  any  lash ; 
only  a  dinky  little  loop  at  de  end  fer  ter  hang  it 
up  by.  Open  gates  wid,  you  sajT?  But  dere  ain't 
no  gates. 

"  Well,  wen  'e  sees  me  'e  kinder  grins,  and  'e 
kinder  don't  grin;  like  a  felly  yer  scrappin'  wid 
wots  bigger  dan  yuse,  an'  yuse  give  'im  er  jolt  in 
de  jaw,  an'  'e  runs  er  bluff  at  grinning.  See? 
Say,  I  was  kinder  sorry  fer  de  mug.  Sure.  I 
knowed  dat  'e  got  er  jolt  in  der  jaw  wen  'e  sees 
de  letter  in  me  fist,  an'  I  hates  ter  give  it  to  'im; 
but  de  Duchess  gives  me  de  orders,  an'  I  wasn't 
goin'  to  queer  meself  wid  'er  any  more,  so  I  pokes 
de  letter  at  'im. 

"  Say,  wot  de  ye  tink  happened  right  den?  Ye'd 
never  guess,  but  it  paralyzed  me.  Say,  'is  Wis- 
kers,  Miss  Fannie's  fadder,  comes  in  de  club  an' 


CHIMMIE  OBSERVES   CLUB  LIFE.  39 

'e  passes  de  door  of  der  room  ware  we  was  jes  as  I 
gives  de  letter  back  to  de  mug.  Well,  holy  gee! 
I  taut  I'd  go  crazy  when  I  see  'is  Wiskers  look  in 
de  room,  kinder  careless  like,  and  see  me  givin' 
de  letter  te  de  gent.  Say,  'is  Wiskers  was  as  wite 
as  yer  shirt,  sure.  .Den  'e  steps  in  de  room  and  'e 
shuts  de  door  behind  'im.  Well,  I'm  givin'  it  to 
you  straight;  I  was  paralyzed  up  te  de  limit,  sure. 

"  First  I  taut  wot  de  Duchess  would  tink  of  it, 
den  I  fergot  all  'bout  de  Duchess  wen  I  began 
tinkiii'  'bout  Miss  Fannie ;  cause  I  kinder  tumbled 
dat  de  game  wasn't  goin'  'er  way  more  dan  enough. 
Den  I  says  ter  meself,  says  I,  'Chimrnie  Fadden,' 
I  says,  'Chimmie,  don't  yuse  be  er  farmer,'  I 
says. 

"Wen  'is  Wiskers  shuts  de  door  de  gent  turns 
aroun,'  an'  'e  gits  kinder  wite,  too;  but  'e  hists  'is 
dicer  and  bows,  like  gents  do  ter  loidies  on  de  street, 
and  'is  Wiskers  'e  hists  'is  dicer,  an'  'e  bows,  too. 

"Den  'is  Wiskers  'e  says,  says  'e,  for  I  'member 
de  words,  'cause  I  tolo  'em  ter  de  Duchess,  but,  of 
course,  a  felly  can't  'member  all  dose  words,  'e 
says : 

"'Pardin  me  fer  sayin'  dat  I  has  a  interest  in 
any  letters  me  servant  has  to  give  to  yuse, '  'e  says. 

"Before  de  gent  says  er  word  I  says,  says  I, 
quick  I  says : 


40  CHIMMIE  OBSERVES   CLUB   LIFE. 

"'I  didn't  bring  no  letter,'  I  says,  'I  foun'  de 
gent's  wip  on  de  road,'  I  says,  'an'  was  jes  fetch- 
in'  it  back  to  'im,'  I  says,  'see?'  says  I. 

"Well,  I  was  er  farmer.  Dat's  all  I  am,  any 
how,  a  dead  farmer;  for  'is  Wiskers  says,  'Hold 
yer  mug' — no — 'yer  tongue,'  'e  says;  an'  de  gent 
'e  says,  'Yer  servant  'as  return  me  wot  I  sent  yer 
daughter, '  'e  says. 

"Dat's  right.  I'm  givin'  it  ter  yer  straight. 
Sure.  De  gent  gives  roe  dead  away,  an'  I  was 
nottin'  but  a  farmer  in  de  game. 

"'Is  Wiskers  'e  never  looks  at  me,  but  'e  says, 
an'  all  dey  says  is  in  er  low  voice,  as  perlite  as  two 
loidies,  'e  says: 

'"I'm  glad,  sir,  dat  me  daughter  'as  honor 
enough  ter  return  de  letter,  even  if  yer  hasn't  de 
honor  not  ter  send  it, '  says  'e. 

"Den  you  outter  seed  de  gent!  I  couldn't  get 
on  to  wot  'is  Wiskers  'd  said  ter  ruff  de  gent,  but 
'e  was  as  dead  sore  as  if  'is  Wiskers  'd  called  'im 
er  liar.  'E  was  all  red  an'  wite  in  er  minute,  an' 
I  was  lookin'  sharp  fer  a  scrap,  an'  tinkin'  wot 
fell  I'd  do  in  der  scrap.  See?  I  didn't  know 
wich  mug  I'd  slug,  fer  one  was  Miss  Fannie's 
fadder,  an'  de  odder  was  'er  felly,  as  near  as  I 
could  tumble  ter  de  game. 

"But  dough  dere  was  scrap  in  dere  eyes,  dey 


CHIMMIE  OBSERVES  CLUB  LIFE.  41 

never  scrapped,  but  jes  talk  perlite,  usin'  dose 
words  dat  ain't  jes  English,  an'  ain't  jes  forn,  but 
is  jes  kinder  dude,  like  actors  speak  out  on  top  er 
der  stage. 

"  Der  gent  'e  says  someting  'bout  not  havin' 
written  Miss  Fannie  er  letter,  but  only  jes  sent  'er 
someting  from  er  friend  of  'er's  in  forn  parts.  'E 
told  'is  Wiskers  dat  'e  didn't  like  ter  tell  de  friend 
in  forn  parts  dat  'e  couldn't  fetch  nottin'  for  'er, 
an'  'e  said  'e  knowed  dat  if  he  sent  it  by  der  Post- 
Office  it  wouldn't  git  ter  Miss  Fannie. 

"When  'e  said  dat  'is  Wiskers  kinder  flustered, 
an'  de  gent  'e  went  on  wid  'is  song  an'  dance,  an' 
'e  said  dat  was  de  reason  'e  gave  de  ting  ter  me, 
happenin'  as  how  'e  seed  me  wen  'e  was  out  ridin'. 

"  Wen  'e'd  finished  wid  'is  talk  den  'e,  all  of  a 
suddint,  tored  open  de  envelope  an'  took  out  a  little 
bit  of  er  dude  hankychief,  wot  loidies  carries,  wot 
is  all  full  of  holes  made  in  der  hankychief,  an' 
showed  it  ter  'is  Wiskers,  an'  'e  says,  says  degent: 

'"Me  sister  asked  me  ter  fetch  dis  over  ter  Miss 
Fannie.  Me  sister  don't  know,'  'e  says,  'wot  'as 
happened  twixt  yuse  an'  me,'  says  'e,  'an  I  didn't 
tell  'er,  so  I  fetched  it  for  'er.  Dat's  all.' 

"  Den  'is  Wiskers  looks  kinder  queer,  an'  I  was 
watchin'  'im  close.  I  don't  know  wot  made  me 
done  it,  but  I  ups  an'  says,  says  I: 


42  CHIMMIE  OBSERVES   CLUB  LIFE. 

"  'If  Miss  Fannie  knowed dere  was  nottin'  but  er 
dinky  little  wipe  in  der  enwelope  I  guess  she 
wouldn't  er  cried  so  w'en  she  tole  de  Duchess — 'er 
maid,  I  mean — ter  make  me  chase  back  wid  it,'  I 
says. 

"  Say,  dat's  de  time  Chimmie  Fade! en  wasn't  no 
farmer.  De  gent  'e  turns  red  and  looks  out  de 
windy,  an'  'is  Wiskers  first  'e  looks  at  me,  an' 
den  'e  looks  at  de  gent,  and  den  'e  hemmed,  like 
'e'd  got  some  wisky  down  'is  winpipe,  an'  den  'e 
says,  says  'e: 

"'I  owes  yer  a  polgy, '  'e  says,  an'  'e  holds  out 
'is  hand.  Den  dey  shake,  an'  'is  Wiskers,  'e  hawed 
some  more,  an'  'e  says,  not  jes  dese  words,  but  dis 
is  wot  he  meaned,  'e  says: 

"  'Mebby  dere  is  someting  dat  can  be  explained 
'bout  dat  odder  matter,'  'e  says. 

"  Den  de  young  gent  says,  quick : 

"'Yuse  never  'lowed  me  no  'tunity,'  'e  says, 
meaning  'e  never  got  no  chanst  ter  square  'imself. 
See?  Den  'is  Wiskers  says  dat  p'r'aps  dere  was 
some  haste.  I  tink  'e  meant  dey'd  rowed  before 
dey  knowed  wot  dey  was  rowin'  'bout,  but  I 
couldn't  make  out  jes  wot,  'cause  'is  Wiskers  pipes 
me  off  jes  den,  an'  'e  says,  says  'e, 

"'Git  outter  'ere,  yer  brat,'  says  'e, 

"  So  I  chases  meself  out  by  de  door  and  strings 


"DEN  'is  WHISKERS  CALLED  ME  IN.'' — Page  43. 


CHIMMIE  OBSERVES   CLUB  LIFE.  43 

de  Buttons,  'till  all  of  a  suddint  I  was  dead  para 
lyzed  by  seem'  'is  Wiskers  and  de  gent  come  march- 
in'  out  of  de  room,  arm  in.  arm,  an'  dey  make 
straight  fer  one  er  dose  little  tables,  an'  in  a  minute 
a  Buttons  was  fetchin'  dem  a  small  bottle.  Sure. 

"  Den  'is  Wiskers  called  me  in,  and  'e  says,  chip 
per  as  a  four-time  winner,  says  'e: 

"  'Go  home  an'  order  me  carriage  down  'ere  an' 
tell  Miss  Fannie  dat  dere  will  be  er  friend  ter  din 
ner,  '  and  wid  dat  'is  Wiskers  nods  at  de  gent,  who 
was  smiling  like  er  cat  wot  is  took  in  out  of  der 
cold. 

"  Say,  de  ye  tink  I  chased  meself  up  de  avenue? 
Well,  I  chased  up  ter  de  limit,  sure.  I  didn't 
have  much  breathe  left  w'en  I  got  home  and  tole  de 
Duchess,  and  wot  breathe  I  did  have  de  Duchess 
squoze  outter  me  w'en  I  sung  me  song  te  'er. 

"  But  dere  was  no  kick  comin'  ter  me  'bout  dat, 
sure." 


WOMIN  IS  QUEER. 


**O AY,  womin  is  queer  folks,  ain't  dey?  It  don't 
make  no  difrunce  wedder  dey  is  like  de 
Duchess,  wot  trots  in  my  class,  or  wedder  dey  is 
torrowbreds  like  Miss  Fannie,  dey  is  all  queer. 
See?  I  was  tellin'  yer  'bout  de  mug  wot  is  stuck 
on  Miss  Fannie  squarin'  'isself  wid  'is  Wiskers, 
Miss  Fannie's  fadder.  'Member?  'Bout  de  letter 
I  tuk  back  te  de  mug  in  de  club?  Yes,  dat's  de 
mug  I  mean,  sure. 

"  Well,  let  me  tell  ye ;  dat  felly  'e  is  a  torrow- 
bred,  an'  now  dat  'e  is  all  square  wid  'is  Wiskers 
'e  is  makin'  up  fer  lost  time  round  our  way.  Dat's 
right.  Say,  I  was  goin'  ter  tell  yer  'bout  how 
queer  womin  is,  but  I  guess  I'm  gettin'  er  little 
looney  meself,  all  along  wid  de  same  game.  If 
yuse  see  any  er  me  old  gang,  don't  put  dem  on  te 
de  way  Chimmie  Fadden  lost  'is  grip,'  cause  dey'd 
string  de  life  outer  me  an'  I  couldn't  kid  dem  back, 
all  along  wid  womin  bein'  so  queer.  See? 

"  Well,  Avare  was  I  at?  De  mug  wot  squared 
'imself  wid 'is  Wiskers?  Dat's  right.  I  was  tell - 
in'  yer  'bout  'is  bein'  up  ter  our  house  all  de  time 

now.     Well,  de  funny  ting  erbout  it  is  dat  now 

47 


48  WOMIN  IS   QUEER. 

dat  Vs  back  an'  ev'ryting  is  up  te  de  limit  wid 
Miss  Fannie,  she  ain't  breakin'  'er  neck  no  more 
'bout  no  orphans,  nor  no  kids  in  hospitals  wid 
crooked  legs,  nor  no  old  womin  wot  ain't  got  no 
good  grub  nor  no  Bibles  in  de  slums.  See? 

"  Say,  ain't  dat  kinder  queer?  Yuse  would  tink 
dat  now  dat  t'ings  is  comin'  'er  way  more  dan 
enough  she'd  be  tinkin'  'bout  de  dead  ducks,  an' 
dinky-backed  kids,  an'  old  womin  outer  work,  wot 
ain't  got  nothin'  comin'  dere  way  'cept  de  winter, 
an'  de  landlord,  an'  de  measles,  an'  dose  t'ings. 
Dat's  right,  ain't  it? 

"  Say,  I  was  er  farmer  ter  tink  so.  Womin  is 
queer,  an'  de  more  yuse  tink  er  'bout  dere  game 
de  more  of  a  farmer  yuse  get  till  yuse  can't  see 
fer  de  hayseed  fallin'  outer  yer  hair.  Dat's 
straight. 

"Lemme  tell  ye.  I  was  sayin'  te  de  Duchess 
dat  I  was  paralyzed  cause  Miss  Fannie  quit  de 
slums  and  tings  like  dat  soon  as  de  mug  wot  is 
'er  felly  comes  back.  De  Duchess  she  says  ter  me, 
she  says,  in  dat  forn  French  dago  wot  she  talks 
English  in,  ye  know,  says  she:  'Chimmie,'  she 
says,  'yuse  are  a  little  heathen  fool,  an'  don't  know 
wot  love  is,'  says  she.  See? 

"'Duchess,'  I  says,  puttin'  me  arm  'round  'er 
waist  ware  we  was  sittin'  one  night  when  she  was 


WOMIN  IS  QUEER.  49 

waitin'  for  Miss  Fannie  to  come  home,  says  I,  'tell 
me  wot  it  is,'  I  says  like  dat.  See? 

"  Den  she  says  dat  love  is  wot  made  Miss  Fannie 
go  inter  de  slums,  an'  love  was  wot  makes  'er  fer- 
get  de  slums. 

"Did  yuse  ever  hear  such  talk  like  dat?  Say, 
she  must  take  me  fer  er  worse  gillie  dan  I  am,  an' 
dat's  wot  I  was  sayin'  ter  'er  when  in  ware  we 
was  sittin'  walks  dat  mug  I  wus  tellin'  ye  of  wot 
fixes  'is  Wiskers'  shirts's  and  tings  like  dat,  wot 
dey  calls  'is  Wiskers's  valley,  not  walley. 

"Say,  I'll  slug  de  head  off  en  dat  valley  some 
day,  sure. 

"  Wen  'e  comes  in  de  Duchess  she  chases  me 
te  de  odder  side  de  room  an'  begins  gettin'  gay 
an'  givin'  me  de  laugh,  an'  jollyin'  up  dat  valley 
'till  I  near  dead  wid  not  knowin'  wedder  I  was  in 
it  er  not.  See? 

"  Wen  she'd  give  me  de  laugh  and  jollied  dat 
valley  till  I'd  been  off  me  nut  if  I'd  hung  'round 
dere  any  longer,  I  chased  meself  out  te  de  barn  an' 
pegged  de  coachman's  kid  in  de  mout'  fur  string- 
in'  me  on  bein'  cooked. 

"  Well,  I  had  me  buttons  off,  an'  was  rigged  up 
in  me  new  dude  harness,  wot  Miss  Fannie  gives 
me  fer  meself  de  day  after  I  helped  square  'er 
felley  wid  'is  Wiskers  at  de  club,  an'  I  gets  tired 


50  WOMIN  IS  QVEER. 

peggin'  de  kid,  an'  I  gets  tired  of  everyt'ing,  so  I 
goes  out  on  de  avenue  fer  a  walk.  Yuse  never 
seed  me  in  dat  harness,  did  ye?  Say,  it  would  kill 
ye  dead  to  see  me  in  it.  I  look  like  a  acter,  sure ! 

"As  I  was  tellin'  ye,  I  went  out  on  de  street,  an' 
who  de  ye  tink  I  meets?  Miss  Fannie's  felley  a 
comin'  away  from  de  house  ware  Vd  fetched  Miss 
Fannie  an'  'is  Wiskers  from  de  teater  dey'd  been 
ter.  'Is  name  is  Burton,  but  dey  calls  'im  Hal, 
'cause  'is  front  name  is  Harry,  an'  'e  was  wistlin' 
like  'er  kid,  wen  'e  sees  me  an'  says,  says  'e: 
'Hello,  Chimmie,'  'esays,  'out  fer  de  air?'  says  'e. 

"  'I'm  goin'  to  wet  me  new  harness,'  I  says. 

"Den  'e  laughs,  an'  says,  says  'e,  'Here's  some- 
ting  te  wet  dem  wid,'  'e  says,  an'  gives  me  a 
plunk. 

"  I  pockets  de  plunk,  wen  'e  pipes  me  off  jes 
under  de  'lectric  light,  an'  'e  says,  kinder  jollying 
me,  says  'e:  'Yer  off  yer  feed,  Chimmie,'  'e  says, 
'wot'sailin'  ye?' 

"  Say,  down  ware  I  was  raised  wese  don't  go 
chasin'  roun'  tellin'  w'en  wese  gets  de  gaff,  fer  ye'd 
only  get  de  laugh  fer  it,  see?  But  'e  was  kinder 
jolly  wid  'is  Avay,  and  I  was  kinder  looney,  I 
guess,  so  I  tells  'im  how  I  was  outter  de  game 
wid  de  Duchess,  an'  'e  didn't  give  me  de  laugh 
er  t'  all. 


WOMIN  IS  QUEER.  51 

"  'E  taut  er  wile,  den  'e  says,  says  'e,  'Ain't  der 
anodder  Duchess  in  de  house?'  'e  says. 

"'Dere  is  a  little  chip,'  I  says,  'wot  dusts  de 
rooms,  and  tings  like  dat,'  says  I,  meanin'  one  er 
de  help  wot  had  kinder  been  jolly  in'  me.  'But 
she  ain't  me  size,'  I  says. 

"'Never  mind  de  size,'  says  'e.  'Jes  yuse  jolly 
'er  ter-morrow,  an'  let  de  Duchess  see  it,'  'e  says, 
'an'  tings  will  come  yer  way,  I  guess,'  says  'e. 

"  Say,  wot  I  wants  to  know  is,  how  fell  'e  could 
know  dat?  See? 

"  But  lemme  tell  ye.  De  next  day  I  meets  de 
chip  jes  as  I  seed  de  Duchess  er  comin'  long  de 
hall,  an'  I  begins  jollyin'  'er  up  to  de  limit,  like  de 
mug — Mr.  Burton,  I  mean — had  put  me  onto.  See? 

"  Say,  ye'd  a  died  if  ye'd  seed  de  Duchess.  She 
told  de  chip  te  chase  'erself  te  de  housekeeper,  an' 
den  she  sung  me  a  long  song  an'  dance  'bout  me 
bein'  er  flirt,  an'  tings  like  dat,  wot  dey  talks 
erbout  out  on  top  er  de  stage,  an'  says,  says  she, 
trowin'  'erself  on  me  shoulder,  she  says,  'Chimmie, 
yuse  have  broken  me  heart,'  says  she.  Dat's 
straight.  Sure. 

"  But  wait  till  I  tell  ye.  Jes  den  dat  valley 
comes  chasin'  'imself  along,  an'  wot  do  yuse  tink 
dat  Duchess  done?  Say,  she  gives  'im  er  slap  in 
der  jaw  an'  gives  me  a  kiss  1 


52  WOMIN  IS  QUEER. 

"Now,  wot  fell  does  dose  tings  mean?  Dat 
mug,  Mr.  Burton,  'e  must  know,  'cause  'e  put  me 
onter  de  game.  But  'e  chased  'imself  all  over 
forn  parts  te  find  out,  I  was  tinkin'. 

"De  next  time  I  seed  'im  I  tells  'im  dat,  an'  'e 
laughs  an'  says,  says  'e:  'Forn  travel  don't  help,' 
'e  says.  'It  took  yuse  te  square  me,  an'  it  took 
me  te  square  yuse,'  'e  says.  'Womin  is  queer 
wherever  dey  be,'  says  'e,  an'  I  tinks  dey  is." 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN'S  NIGHT   OFF. 


"  O  AY,  I'm  feelin'  up  ter  de  limit  dis  week. 
See?  I  had,  what's  dat  yuse  calls  dem  tings? 
Blue  devils?  Dat's  right.  I  had  dem  last  week. 
Sure.  Well,  tings  is  comin'  my  way  agin  dis 
week.  See? 

"  De  Duchess  an'  me  is  jes  like  two  purps  in  er 
basket  wot  de  man  shows  on  de  street  fur  sale.  I 
means  wese  is  pretty  comfortable,  an'  ain't  sayin' 
nottin'  ter  nobody.  See? 

"  But  lemme  tell  ye  wot  happened  ter  put  me  on 
de  inside  der  game  up  ter  our  house.  Ye  know 
'is  Wiskers,  Miss  Fannie 's  f adder?  Well,  say, 
de  old  gent  is  er  sport,  an'  dat  goes  if  'e  hears  it. 
See?  I  taut  'e  was  er  kind  er  mishioner,  wot  tells 
de  mugs  in  der  slums  dat  dey  isn't  doin'  right  ter 
be  so  dirty  an'  ragged  an'  poor,  and  tings  like  dat; 
jes  like  dey  was  dirty  an'  ragged  an'  poor  'cause 
dey  likes  it.  Are  ye  on?  Well,  say,  'e  ain't  dat 
kind  er  mug,  but  'e  does  pass  de  'chip-in-de-nickel- 
box'  on  er  Sunday,  cause  I  see  'im  doin'  of  it  at 
de  church  wot  we  drives  'im  an'  Miss  Fannie  ter 
on  er  Sunday. 

"  But,  say,  I'm  gettin'  on  te  'is  curves,  an'  I'm 

kinder  stuck  on  'em.     See? 

55 


56  CHIMMIE  FADDEN'S  NIGHT  OFF. 

"  I  was  goin'  te  tell  ye  'bout  'is  bein'  'er  sport. 
Ye  see  de  Duchess  an'  me  we  gets  'er  night  off 
togedder,  de  odder  night,  an'  I  says  te  'er,  says  I, 
'Duchess,'  I  says,  'wot's  de  matter  wid  yuse  an' 
me  goin'  te  de  teater?'  I  says,  like  dat,  says  I.  See? 

"Well,  de  Duchess  she  tells  me  ter  put  on  me 
new  street  togs,  de  new  harness  wot  Miss  Fannie 
gives  me  I  was  tellin'  you  of,  an'  she'd  meet  me ; 
cause  Miss  Fannie  she's  er  little  shy  'bout  me  an' 
de  Duchess  bein'  togedder.  See? 

"Say,  I  don't  know  w'y  Miss  Fannie  is  so  dead 
sore  'bout  dat.  If  she  knowed  how  hard  I  has  ter 
'member  ter  mind  me  manners,  and  jolly  de  Duch 
ess  perlite,  jes  ter  keep  in  de  game  er  'tall,  she 
wouldn't  be  breakin'  'er  neck  tryin'  ter  keep  de 
Duchess  and  me  'way  from  each  odder.  Sure. 

"Dat's  funny  'bout  womin,  anyhow.  Miss 
Fanny  ain't  'fraid  of  'erself  wid  dat  mug  wot's  'er 
feller,  dat  Mr.  Burton ;  but  she's  dead  leary  'bout 
de  Duchess  an'  me,  cause  she  ketched  me  givin'  de 
Duchess  er  kiss.  Praps,  dough,  she  don't  know 
dat  de  Duchess  an'  me  has  ketched  'er  givin'  dat 
mug  er  kiss. 

"  Say,  I'm  tinking  dere  aint  nottin'  wrong  in  de 
kiss,  'cept  gettin'  found  out,  an'  she  don't  know 
we  finded  'er  out,  so  she  tinks  de  game  is  square 
wid  'er  an'  de  mug,  an'  crooked  wid  de  Duchess 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN'S  NIGHT  9FF.  5? 

an'  me.  Say,  I  ain't  got  no  kick  comin'  ter  me: 
wot  Miss  Fannie  tinks  goes.  But  dat  aint  wot  I 
was  goin'  ter  tell  ye  'bout. 

"Well,  we  meets  round  de  corner;  de  Duchess 
tellin'  Miss  Fannie  she  was  a-goin  ter  er  sick  aunt, 
an  me  tellin'  de  butler  dat  I  was  goin  ter  de  night 
school  fer  me  English.  Wait  'till  I  tell  ye.  All 
dem  mugs  up  te  our  house  says  I  don't  talk  Eng 
lish.  Say,  aint  dat  de  best  joke  youse  ever  heard? 
An'  me  wot  uster  sell  poipers  right  on  Park  Row ! 
Say,  I  knows  more  English  in  er  hour  dan  dat 
whole  gang  of  forn  dagos  an'  Britishers  knows  in 
der  lifes.  But  I  aint  peeping  er  a  word  ter  dem. 
I  jes  lets  dem  tink  I'm  ignorant  and  takes  nights 
off  fer  der  night  school,  an  goes  te  de  teater. 

"Wot  was  dat  I  was  tellin' y use  'bout?  Oh, 
yes,  'bout  'is  Wiskers  bein'  er  sport.  Well,  say, 
you'd  died  er  laughin  if  you'd  seen  'im.  Say, 
don't  yuse  tink  I'm  sayin'  er  word  agin  'im,  fer  I 
ain't.  'E's  Miss  Fannie's  fadder,  and  dat's  all  'e 
needs  ter  be  ter  make  wot  he  does  go,  if  I  has  ter 
fight  ter  make  it.  See?  But  Miss  Fannie  ain't 
got  no  mudder,  so  'e  ain't  got  no  wife;  an' dat 
makes  er  diffrunce,  don't  it?  Sure. 

"Well,  as  I  was  tellin'  ye,  I  had  on  me  new 
togs,  and  was  lookin'  pretty  slick,  an'  de  Duchess 
— say,  yuse  otter  seed  'er :  she  was  lookin'  up  ter 


58  CHIMMIE  FADDEN'S  NIGHT  OFF. 

de  limit  inj  one  er  Miss  Fannie's  hats  an'  one  er 
dem  cloaks  wid  fur  on  de  rim.  I  had  er  couple 
er  plunks — say  y use  is  a  farmer;  er  plunk  is  er 
doller — wot  Miss  Fannie's  felley,  Mr.  Burton  gives 
me.  Say,  Vs  me  friend.  'E  pungles  beautiful ! 
So  we  went  down  to  de  concert  hall  'cause  de 
Duchess  she  says,  says  she,  in  dat  forn  French 
dago  wot  she  talks,  dough  I'm  teachin'  'er  straight 
English  as  fast  as  I  can,  says  she:  'Mon  doo! 
Cheemie,'  she  says.  'Take  me  where  I  can  har  er 
Christian  lanwudge  speaked, '  says  she,  meaning 
dat  she  wanted  te  hear  dat  forn  French  wot  de 
loidy  sings  out  on  top  er  de  stage,  wot  the  Duchess 
can  understan'  widout  nobody  tellin'  'er  de  mean- 
in'  of  it  in  English. 

"  Say,  de  Duchess  is  a  corker,  sure. 

"Well,  wese  was  sittin'  dere,  drinkin'  er  glass 
er  mixed  ale  like  two  swells,  wen,  holy  gee !  Wot 
do  yuse  tink  I  seen?  Say,  I'm  given  it  to  yuse 
straight;  de  wind  er  something  blowed  er  curtain 
in  one  er  dem  boxes  up  on  one  side,  an'  dere  was 
'is  Wiskers  with  a  fairy  in  de  box !  Sure.  I 
nudged  de  Duchess,  an'  she  nearly  had  er  fit 
laughin'  wen  she  seed  'is  Wiskers. 

"  But  dat  wasn't  de  best  of  it.  'Is  Wiskers  hap 
pened  ter  look  down,  and  I'm  er  farmer  ef  'e  didn't 
see  me  before  'e  jerked  de  curtain  back. 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN'S  NIGHT  OFF.  59 

"  Well,  wese  was  sittin'  dere,  wen  one  er  dem 
mugs  wot  shows  ye  where  yer  seat  is  comes  up 
and  whispers  ter  me ;  'e  says :  '  Is  yuse  Chimmie 
Fadclen?'  says  'e. 

"  'Dat's  me  name,'  says  I. 

"'Yer  wanted  up  in  dat  box,'  'e  says,  pointing 
to  'is  Wiskers'  box.  Den  'e  told  me  to  folly  'im, 
an  I  tells  de  Duchess  to  wait,  an'  I  goes  along  wid 
de  mug,  see? 

"  Say,  I  was  feeling  kinder  queer,  cause  I  taut 
sure  I'd  have  er  scrap,  an'  I  wasn't  mindin'  'bout 
'is  Wiskers  doin  me,  'cause  dat  ain't  much  wen 
yer  used  ter  it,  but  I  was  tinking  I'd  get  me  new 
close  all  mussed  up  wot  Miss  Fannie  give  me. 

"Say,  I  was  dead  paralyzed  wen  I  got  ter  de 
box,  for  wot  de  yuse  tink  'is  Wiskers  done?  'E 
comes  out  er  de  little  door  in  de  back  er  de  box, 
an'  'e  says,  says  'e,  smiling  like  'e'd  been  a  sure 
winner,  'e  says  ter  me:  'Chimmie,'  he  says,  'I 
hopes  yer  enjoyin'  yerself,  'says  'e. 

"'Tings  is  comin'  me  way  a  little,'  I  says,  see 
ing  'im  draggin'  'is  vest  pocket. 

"'Well,'  says  'e,  'have  a  good  time  wid  dis,'  'e 
says,  an'  'e  tips  me  wid  a  fiver.  And  dis  is  fer 
Hortense,'  meanin'  de  Duchess,  'cause  dat's  'er 
name;  an'  e'  winks  at  me,  gives  me  anodder  fiver 
for  de  Duchess,  an'  goes  in  ter  de  box. 


60  CHIMMIE  FADDEN'S  NIGHT  OFF. 

"  Say,  dat  knocked  me  silly.  I  went  back  to  de 
Duchess  an'  asks  'er  wot  fell  does  it  mean,  an'  she 
has  anodder  fit.  Den  she  says,  says  she:  'Chee- 
mie,  lend  me  dat  fiver  of  yours,  an'  I'll  tell  yuse 
wot  it  means. '  So  I  coughs  up  me  fiver,  an'  den 
she  says:  'It  means  dat  yuse  is  not  to  say  iiothin' 
to  home  'bout  seein'  'is  Wiskers  in  dis  place  till  I 
gives  yer  back  yer  fiver,'  she  says. 

"Say,  I  ain't  got  back  me  fiver  yet,  so  I  ain't 
savin'  notin'  at  home,  but  'is  Wiskers  is  makin' 
tings  come  me  way  pretty  easy  dese  days.  See?" 


MR.  FADDEN'S   POLITICAL  EXPERI 
ENCE. 


u  OAY,  yuse  want  t'  take  yer  hat  off  t'  me  an* 
call  me  Mister  Fadden.  Chimmie  don't  go 
no  more.  See?  I  ain't  wearin'  de  same  size  hat 
I  was,  an'  I'm  smokin'  'Gyptian  cigarettes  an' 
drinkin'  absence  froppy.  I'm  up  t'  de  limit,  an' 
I'm  strikin'  er  great  pace  t'  get  on  de  odder  side 
of  it.  Sure.  Dere  ain't  nobody  in  sight  er  me. 
Dat's  right. 

"  Wait  till  I  tell  ye  'bout  it.  Ye  knows  dat  mug 
wot  is  Miss  Fannie's  felly,  Mr.  Burton?  Well, 
'e's  er  member  of  dat  Congress  wot  goes  t'  Albany 
fer  t'  make  laws  fer  de  lawyers.  See?  'E's  er 
member  from  er  jay  district  where  farmers  is, 
'cause  'is  modder  lives  dere  so  she  don't  have  t' 
pay  no  taxes  an'  meet  new  folkses  in  de  city,  'cause 
she's  er  'ristocrat.  Dat's  wot  de  Duchess  says, 
an'  she  knows  mor'n  a  newspoiper.  Dat's  de  way 
de  mug  comes  t'  be  erlected  from  de  jay  district, 
fer  'e  ain't  no  jay  'imself.  'E  's  wot  dey  calls  er 
'dude  in  polytics, '  dough  'e  ain't  no  dude,  needer. 

"  Well,  'e  was  er  goin'  t'  make  er  song  an'  dance, 
er  speech,  I  mean,  up  dere  in  Albany,  an'  Miss 

Fannie,  she  was  er  breakin'  er  neck  wantin'  t'  go 

63 


64    MR.    FADDEN'S  POLITICAL  EXPERIENCE. 

an'  hear  'im.  She  was  er  singin'  er  song  t*  'is 
Wiskers,  dat's  'er  fadder,  'till  'e  says  'e  has  some 
business  wot  would  fetch  'im  up  dere  an'  'e'd  take 
Miss  Fannie  er  long.  So  Miss  Fannie,  er  course, 
she  taks  de  Duchess,  hut  I  didn't  know  wot  fell 
kind  er  game  I'd  play  t'  get  took.  See? 

"  Say,  wot  de  ye  tink  I  done?  I  goes  t'  'is  Wis 
kers'  valley  an'  tole  'im  I'd  tump  'im  if  'e  didn't 
play  like  'e  was  sick  an'  couldn't  go  wid  'is  Wis 
kers,  an'  'e  said  'e'd  radder  stay  t'  home  dan  be 
tumped,  an'  I  tole  'im  'e  had  a  great  head  on  'im, 
'cause  if  I  tumped  'im  'e'd  have  t'  stay  anyhow. 
See?  Den  when  de  valley  played  sick  I  goes  t'  'is 
Wiskers  and  says  couldn't  I  go  in  'is  valley's  place, 
an'  'e  kinder  grinned  an'  says  'Yes,'  'cause  'e  ain't 
sayin'  'No'  t'  me  much  since  I  piped  Mm  off  in  de 
box  at  de  show  wid  de  fairy  wot  I  wos  tellin'  ye 
of  before.  See? 

"  Well,  when  we  chased  ourselves  up  dere  t' 
Albany,  dere  was  er  mug  wot  Miss  Fannie's  felly 
had  a  jawin'  match  wid,  'cause  Mr.  Burton,  dat's 
Miss  Fannie's  felly,  wouldn't  tell  de  mug  how  'e 
was  goin'  t'  vote  on  er  ting  wot  deys  all  had  t'  vote 
on.  See?  Dey  comes  nigh  havin'  er  scrap,  and 
dere  was  pieces  put  inter  de  poipers  'bout  de  mug, 
wot  dey  calls  er  lobbist,  and  Mr.  Burton,  wot  dey 
calls  er  dude  in  poly  tics,  like  I  was  tellin'  ye. 


MR.    FADDEN'S  POLITICAL  EXPERIENCE.    65 

"Well,  say,  wot  do  ye  tink?  Dat  mug  de  lob- 
bist,  'e  seen  me  wid  de  folkses,  an'  'e  winks  t'  me 
one  time,  an'  I  tumbled,  an'  folleyed  'im  t'  'is 
room.  Den  'e  sets  up  er  drink  an'  er  cigar,  like  I 
was  a  gent;  an'  'e  says,  says  'e,  after  askin'  me 
name,  an'  sayin'  I  was  er  pretty  smooth  chap,  an' 
songs  an'  dance  like  dat,  'e  says :  'Is  ten-doller  bills 
comin'  yer  way  so  much  yuse  has  bother  er  dodg- 
in'  'em?'  says  'e. 

"Say,  I  wasn't  on  t'  'is  game.  See?  So  I  says, 
says  I:  'Well,'  I  says,  'if  I  hustles  lively  I  keeps 
from  gettin'  snowed  under  wid  'em,'  I  says. 

"Den  'e  gives  er  big  laugh,  an'  'e  says  'e  tinks 
I'll  do. 

"'Do  wot?'  says  I,  puffin'  me  cigar  jes  like  'im, 
so  'e  wouldn't  catch  me  curves. 

"  Well,  'e  goes  on  an'  says  dat  dere  is  ten  plunks 
in  it  fer  me  to  fine  out  how  Mr.  Burton  was  goin' 
t'  vote  on  dat  ting,  an'  'e  tole  me  wot  it  was  all  er 
'bout,  an'  'e  ast  me  did  I  know  dat  French  maid 
pretty  well. 

"  I  tole  'im  wese  was  tick  as  two  tieves,  an  'e 
says  dat  was  de  game  1  could  work  on.  Burton 
would  sure  tell  Miss  Fannie,  she'd  tell  de  Duchess, 
and  de  Duchess  'd  squeal  to  me. 

"Say,  I  was  dead  paralyzed,  but  I  jes  looked 
wise  an'  said  nottin'  only  's'long.' 


66    MR.   FADDEN'S  POLITICAL  EXPERIENCE. 

"  Den  I  chased  after  de  Duchess,  an'  I  gives  'er 
de  hull  game. 

"  De  Duchess  she  does  er  heep  er  tinkin',  an'  den 
she  puts  up  de  slickest  job  yuse  ever  heard  tell  of. 
She  makes  me  go  wid  'er  where  she  knowed  de 
lobbist  would  be  on  t'  'us,  an'  wese  talks  togedder, 
an'  talks  togedder,  an'  talks  togedder.  Den  she 
goes  away,  an'  comes  back  an'  hands  me  a  en 
velope,  an'  tells  me  wot  t'  do,  all  de  time  talkin'  t' 
me,  when  she  knowed  dat  mug  was  pipin1  of  us. 

"I  didn't  know  wot  fell  was  in  de  envelope, 
only  dat  dere  wasn't  nottin'  dat  would  give  Miss 
Fannie's  felly  away,  'cause  I  wouldn't  have  dat. 
See? 

"  Well,  I  takes  de  envelope  f  de  mug,  de  lobbist, 
an'  I  says  f  im,  says  I:  'I can't  cough  up  wot  yuse 
want,'  says  I,  'less  dan  twenty-five  plunks,  cause 
I's  have  f  whack  up  wid  de  Duchess,'  I  says. 
'See?'  I  says,  like  dat.  'See?'  I  says. 

"'Wot  ye  got?'  says  'e. 

"'I's  got  how  'e's  goin'  f  vote,'  says  I,  'in  de 
envelope,'  I  says. 

"Let's  see  it,'  says  'e.  'Let's  see  it,  'cause  I 
ain't  goin'  f  buy  no  pig  in  no  poke, '  'e  says. 

"  Den  I  puts  de  envelope  in  me  pocket  an'  I  says, 
startin'  fer  de  door,  'I  ain't  no  farmer  dis  year,'  I 
says.  'Crops  is  too  short  for  me  health,'  says  I. 


MR.    FADDEN'S  POLITICAL  EXPERIENCE.    67 

"  Den  'e  laughs,  an'  'e  says  dat  I  was  er  pretty 
fly  boy,  an'  otter  be  in  poly  tics,  an'  'e  pungles  de 
twenty-five  plunks,  an'  I  coughs  up  de  envelope. 

"  Den  'e  opens  de  envelope  an'  'e  reads  like  disv 
5e  reads:  'Mr.  Burton  is  goin'  t'  vote  de  way  'e 
wants  ter. ' 

"  Say,  when  I  heard  wot  de  Duchess  had  writ  I 
nearly  had  er  fit,  fer  I  taut  de  mug  would  slug  me 
an'  drag  me  jeans  fer  de  boodle;  but  'e  never. 

"First  'e  gets  red,  an'  den  'e  looks  at  me  kinder 
queer  like,  and  den  'e  says,  'Chimime,  yer  got  all 
yer  ast  fer,  didn'  yeV  says  'e. 

"'Dat's  right,'  I  says,  not  knowin'  wot  was 
comin'  next,  an'  lookin'  roun'  t'  see  wot  chair  I'd 
grab,  if  'e  jumped  me. 

"Den  'e  taut  er  while  an'  'e  says:  'I  was  square 
wid  yuse,  so  yuse  be  square  wid  me.  Does  it  goV 

"  'Dat  goes,'  I  says,  an'  wot  de  ye  tink?  'E  digs 
up  er  nodder  fiver  an'  gives  it  t'  me,  an'  'e  says, 
says  'e:  'If  yuse  tell  dis  story  t'  de  poipers  don't 
say  my  name.' 

"  Say,  dat's  all  dat  mug  said,  an'  when  I  tells 
de  Duchess  she  says  we  was  farmers  not  t'  touch 
'im  for  fifty  'nstead  of  twenty-five. 

"Say,  dat  Duchess  has  er  great  head.  Sure. 
Ain't  dat  right?" 


LOVE  AND  WAR. 


**  QAY,  I  was  tinking  I  was  eatin'  nothin'  but 
hot  honey  puffs,  when  all  of  er  suddint  I  got 
me  mout  full  er  cold  pretzel.  Are  yuse  on? 

"  Wait  'till  I  tell  ye:  I  taut  I  didn't  have  t'  jolly 
de  Duchess  no  more  t'  keep  'er  in  line  wid  me> 
cause  wese  was  pardners  in  dose  snaps  like  wot  I 
was  tellin'  ye  'bout,  up  t'  Albany,  where  dey  makes 
dose  laws  fer  de  lawyers.  See?  No?  Say,  yuse 
er  me  is  er  farmer,  an'  I  guess  it's  bote. 

"  How  fell  was  I  t'  know  dat  I'd  have  t'  be  er 
jollyin'  an'  er  chasin'  de  Duchess  all  de  time  after 
I  was  onct  solid  wid  'er ;  after  I  left  de  odder  mug, 
dat  valley,  'is  Wiskers's  valley,  at  de  post,  an'  me 
come  in  er  easy  winner? 

"Dat's  wot  I  done,  didn't  I?  Well,  dere  ain't 
no  tellin'  'bout  womin. 

"  Say,  I  taut  I'd  beat  out  dat  valley,  hands  down, 
so  I  stopped  runnin' ;  but  de  mug  wot  tinks  'e's  er 
safe  winner  when  womin  is  de  stake,  dat  mug  is 
er  farmer.  Sure. 

"  Lemme  tell  ye.  Miss  Fannie's  felley,  Mr.  Bur 
ton,  'e's  up  t'  Albany  all  de  time  dese  days  cept- 

in'  Saturday  an'  Sunday,  wot's  'is  days  off,  so 

71 


72  LOVE  AND   WAR. 

Miss  Fannie  she  got  tinkin'  agin  'bout  de  crooked- 
leg  kids  in  de  hospitals,  an'  de  old  womin  in  de 
tennemints  wot  don't  have  nothin'  but  Bibles  an' 
tings  like  dat  to  keep  derselves  warm  wid  dese 
days.  So  she  says  t'  me  one  day,  says  she, 
'Chames, '  she  says,  'Chames,  put  on  yer  street 
harness' — close  I  means — 'put  on  yer  street  close 
an'  go  wid  me,'  she  says,  't'  de  mission.' 

"  De  mission  's  de  joint  on  de  east  side  where 
Miss  Fannie  uster  go  all  de  time  when  'is  Wiskers 
chased  Mr.  Burton  t'  forn  parts,  wot  I  was  tellin' 
ye  'bout.  Wese  goes  down  dere  in  de  street  cars, 
cause  dey  strings  ye  down  dere  if  }Te  goes  in  er 
carriage,  an'  Miss  Fannie  she  puts  on  er  dress  wot 
she  tinks  looks  like  er  factory  girl's  dress. 

"  Say,  ye'd  die  if  ye'd  see  wot  she  tinks  looks 
like  er  factory  girl.  It  looks  like  one  er  dem  loidies 
wot  plays  on  der  stage  when  dey  goes  t'  de  war  t' 
be  nurses  when  dere  felly  s  is  sojers.  See?  She 
looks  up  t'  de  limit,  I'm  tellin'  3*6,  but  no  more 
like  er  factory  girl  dan  I  looks  like  der  statoo  on 
Park  Row. 

"Say,  wot  was  I  er  tellin'  ye  of?  De  Duchess? 
Well,  I  puts  on  me  street  close,  an'  Miss  Fannie 
she  comes  down  t'  de  door  where  I  was  waitin'  wid 
de  basket  er  grub ;  an',  my !  she  looked  outter  sight. 
Den  de  Duchess  she  comes  chasm'  along  all  togged 


LOVE  AND   WAR.  73 

out  in  er  dinky  little  hat  wid  fedders,  an'  er  cloak 
wid  fur  rims  onto  it,  what  Miss  Fannie  had  give 
'er,  an'  she  looks  like  she  was  made  up  fer  de 
matinee.  I  knowed  Miss  Fannie  didn't  want  de 
Duchess  chasin'  along  wid  us  in  dat  harness,  but 
she  don't  never  jaw  nobody ;  so  de  tree  of  us  goes 
down  t'  de  mission,  an'  I  had  t'  tump  a  gang  er 
kids  de  first  ting  fer  yellin',  'Pipe  de  dago  fairy! ' 
when  dey  got  onto  de  Duchess. 

"  Well,  at  de  mission,  Miss  Fannie,  she  got  de 
names  and  where  dey  lives,  of  some  ole  womin 
wot  didn't  know  where  fell  dey  'd  git  de  grub  t' 
keep  dem  outter  de  morgue. 

"Say,  wot  d'  ye  tink?  De  first  place  wot  Miss 
Fannie  says  we'd  go  wid  de  grub  was  er  ole  woman 
wot  uster  let  me  sleep  in  'er  room  sometimes  wen 
I  didn't  have  no  odder  place  t'  sleep.  Say,  dat 
drove  me  crazy,  'cause  I  knowed  Miss  Fannie'd 
ketch  me  in  er  lie  dere. 

"Well,  say,  wen  wese  all  chased  up  de  stairs 
t'  de  room  wot  de  ole  woman  lives  in,  dere  she 
wus  cookin'  er  tea  an'  'er  steak  over  de  fire,  an' 
er  lookin'  as  fit  as  er  tree-times  winner.  Miss 
Fannie  she  looks  s'prised,  but  only  says  she's 
fetched  'er  grub,  an'  den  dat  ole  womin  went  an' 
gives  me  dead  away. 

"'Sure,'  says   she,    bowin'    an'  grinnin'  at   de 


74  LOVE  AND  WAR. 

Duchess,  tinkin'  she  was  Miss  Fannie  'cause  of 
de  harness  she  wored,  'sure,  Miss  Fannie,'  she 
says,  'it's  good  ye  are  t'  come  an'  see  me,  after 
sendin'  me  de  money  by  Chimmie  last  night,'  she 
says.  See? 

"  'Hold  yer  mug,  ye  onresonable  ole  hag,'  I  says 
t'er,  fer  I  was  dead  sore  'cause  she  was  peachin' 
on  me.  'Hold  yer  mug,'  I  says. 

"  Say,  yuse  know  how  dem  ole  womin  talks  when 
dey  gits  goin'.  Ye  couldn't  put  'em  out  wid  er 
fire  engine;  an'  she  went  jawiu'  on,  talkin'  t'  de 
Duchess.  'Chimmie  tole  me  ye  sent  de  money,' 
she  says,  'an'  it  saved  me  from  freezin'  an  starv- 
in',  an'  'e  tole  me  wot  er  beautiful  young  loidy  ye 
was,  but  'e  didn't  say  half  ernough,'  says  she. 

;'  Den  Miss  Fannie,  she  looks  at  me  kinder  queer, 
and  she  says,  says  she,  speakin'  kinder  soft  like, 
wot  makes  'er  mug  all  broke  up,  an'  'e  can't  say 
nottin',  kinder,  she  says;  'I  guess  it's  Chames  wot 
otter  get  yer  tanks,'  sa}*s  she,  an'  de  ole  woman 
didn't  know  wot  fell,  cause  she  taut  Miss  Fannie 
was  de  maid  an'  de  Duchess  was  Miss  Fannie,  an' 
'er  course  she  couldn't  tumble  t'  de  game,  bein' 
kinder  loony  anyhow,  wid  havin'  too  much  rheu- 
matiz  an'  not  ernough  grub  an'  fire. 

"  Den  I  tole  de  ole  woman  dat  she  was  er  chat- 
terin'  ole  magpipe,  an'  dat  de  Duchess  wasn't  Miss 


LOVE  AND   WAR.  75 

Fannie,  but  only  a  dago  i  jit  wot  had  no  more  sense 
dan  t'  go  chasin'  'roun  de  slums  in  better  close  dan 
'er  mistress,  I  says  t'  er.  'Wot  fell,'  I  says,  like 
dat.  See? 

"  I  was  dat  crazy  wid  bein'  foun'  out  dat  I  guess 
I  was  talkin'  troo  me  hat,  but  Miss  Fannie  she 
looked  at  me  wid  'er  big  eyes  dat  way  wot  makes 
yer  have  t'  talk  kinder  rough  or  yer  can't  talk  't 
all.  See?  I  hadn't  done  notin',  anyhow;  only 
jes  t'  take  some  er  dat  boodle  wot  we  done  outter 
dat  lobbist  mug  in  Albany  an'  give  it  ter  de  ole 
woman  fer  de  lodgin'  wot  she  uster  give  me  when 
I  didn't  have  none. 

"  Den  Miss  Fannie  she  took  outer  de  basket  some 
er  dat  soft  red  grub  wot's  in  dinky  little  jars,  an' 
sweet,  an'  opens  it,  an'  fixes  up  de  teatable,  an* 
makes  de  Duchess  an'  me  hustle  roun'  cleanin' 
tings ;  an  she's  er  talkin'  an'  er  singin'  all  de  time, 
'till  de  shaky  ole  woman  was  er  talkin'  an*  er 
laughin',  like  she'd  allus  had  plenty  er  grub,  an* 
didn't  have  no  rheumatiz  t'  keep  'er  from  workin* 
for  more. 

"  Well,  we  went  chasin'  roun'  de  slums  'till  dark, 
an'  Miss  Fannie  seed  I  was  dead  sore  at  bein'  foun' 
out  and  never  jawed  me  't  all,  but  jes  jollied  me 
and  said  I  was  a  bully  boy. 

"  Say,  er  course  dat  made  me  feel  like  er  peach, 


76  LOVE  AND   WAR. 

an'  sides  dat  de  Duchess  was  er  goin'  wid  me  dat 
evenin'  t'  de  Park  t'  see  de  swells  er  skatin',  so 
when  I  seed  'er  in  de  room  where  all  de  help  eats 
I  says  t'er,  says  I:  'Duchess,  are  ye  wid  me 
t'night?' 

"  Say,  she  gives  me  er  look  like  she  wanted  ter 
give  me  er  poke  in  de  eye  wid  er  stick,  an'  she 
says:  'No,  Meester  Chames,' sa37s  she,  'no,  I'm 
goin'  out  wid  er  gent,'  she  says. 

"Den  all  de  help  wot  was  dere,  eatin'  dere  din 
ner,  dey  gives  me  de  laugh. 

"  Den  I  says  t'er :  '  Wot's  de  matter  wid  me  bein' 
er  gent?'  says  I,  like  dat.  'Wot  fell?'  I  says. 
See? 

"'Gents  don't  tell  loidies  dey  is  dago  ijits  like 
yuse  tole  me,'  she  says.  'I'm  goin'  out  wid 
Meester  Hobbs,'  says  she,  meanin'  dat  mug  wot's 
'is  Wiskers's  valley.  Den  dey  all  gives  me  anod- 
der  laugh. 

"  Say,  I  was  paralyzed,  dead  paralyzed.  I  taut 
I  was  er  peach,  an'  I  was  nottin'  but  er  farmer;  for 
she  done  me  dat  hard  in  front  er  all  de  help  dat  I 
come  near  losin'  me  nerve.  But  all  of  er  suddint  I 
catches  Maggie's  eye,  wot's  de  housemaid  I  was 
er  tellin'  yer  of,  an'  I  gets  up  and  says,  says  I : 
'Maggie,  me  dear,'  I  says,  'Maggie,  I  owes  yer  a 
pology.  It  was  yuse  I  ast  ter  go  t'  see  de  swells  er 


LOVE  AND   WAR.  77 

skatin',  an'  I  come  near  forgettin'.  If  ye'll  grant 
me  pardin','  says  I,  usin'  all  dem  dude  langwudge, 
cause  dat  makes  de  Duchess  crazy,  she  bein'  forn, 
'if  ye'H  grant  me  pardin',  we'll  go  ter  de  Concert 
Hall,  'stid  er  de  Park,  an'  hear  de  "  Man  in  de 
Moon,"  an'  have  some  mixed  ale,'  I  says,  bein'  as 
dude  as  a  acter. 

"Say,  Maggie  is  er  peach,  an'  dat  goes.  She 
was  on  t'  de  game  wid  bote  feet  in  er  minnit. 

'"Wid  pleasure,  Chimmie,'  says  she,  givin'  de 
Duchess  de  laugh,  'cause  she's  dead  sore  on  'er; 
'wid  pleasure,  Mr.  Fadden,  I'll  go  t'  de  theayter, 
fer  only  common  flat  servants  goes  t'  watch  de 
skaters.' 

"Say,  ain't  dat  Maggie  er  peach?  De  Duchess 
was  dead  crazy,  an'  Hobbs  nearly  had  er  fit  when 
I  says  t'im,  I  says:  'Hobbs,  me  boy,'  says  I,  'if 
yuse  an'  de  Duchess  wants  t'  ride  out  in  de  stage, 
I'll  lend  yer  half  er  case,  fer  I've  more  boodle  dan 
I  can  spend,'  I  says. 

"  Well,  all  de  help  turned  de  laugh  on  de  Duchess 
and  de  valley,  and  I  tumbled  dat  de  Duchess  was 
jess  as  sore  as  me,  but  dat  don't  do  Chimmie  Fad- 
den  no  good. 

"Maggie's  er  peach,  an'  she  talks  straight  Eng 
lish,  like  me,  but  she  ain't  de  Duchess. 

"Say,  it's  funny  'bout  dose  tings;  I  don't  know 


78  LOVE  AND   WAR. 

wedder  I  was  de  sorest  'cause  de  Duchess  didn't 
go  \vid  me,  er  'cause  she  did  go  wid  Hobbs,  er 
wot  fell.  But  I  learned  one  ting  sure;  if  dere's 
er  woman  in  de  game  yuse  wanter  keep  yer  eye 
peeled  all  de  time,  fer  if  yer  snooze — why,  when 
yer  wakes  up  yer  ain't  in  it.  Dat's  right." 


THE  DUCHESS  ON  THE  BOWERY. 


"OAY,  what  d'ye  tink  I  done?  I  took  de  Duch- 
ess  t'  de  Roseleaf  Social  Outin'  an'  Life- 
Savin'  Club's  dance.  Sure !  Don't  ye  know  dat 
club?  Say,  yuse  otter  get  'quainted  in  'siaty. 
Dat's  one  er  de  swellest  clubs  down  where  I  uster 
live,  but  I  never  taut  I'd  get  er  invite  ter  its  dance. 
I'm  gettin'  up  in  de  world,  sure,  an'  I'll  be  outter 
sight  if  I  keeps  on.  De  Roseleaf s  in  winter  dey 
dances,  an'  in  summer  dey  has  picnics  on  dose 
barges  what  gits  towed  up  de  river,  wid  mixed 
ale.  Dat's  wot  makes  it  social  an'  dat's  wot 
makes  it  outin'.  See?  Wot  makes  it  life  savin' 
is  'cause  no  gents  can  pack  no  gun  nor  no  knife 
t'  de  dance,  nor  t'  de  outin'.  Dat's  right,  ain't 
it?  De  club  is  high-toned,  an'  I'm  givin'  it  t'ye 
straight. 

"  Well,  I  was  tellin'  ye :  I  met  er  mug  wot's  er 
barkeep  on  de  Bow'ry,  wot  I  uster  know  before  'e 
got  high-toned,  an'  now  'e  knows  me  again  'cause 
I  got  high-toned,  an'  'e  says  t'  me,  'e  says:  'Chim- 
mie,'  says  'e,  like  I  was  er  old  pal,  'e  says:  'Chim- 
mie,  would  yuse  like  er  invite  t'  de  Roseleaf  dance?' 
'e  says.  See? 

"  Why,  'sure,'  I  says,  'sure.    Wot's  de  damage?' 
81 


82  THE  DUCHESS  ON  THE  BOWERY. 

"'Fifty  cents  fer  hat  check,'  'e  says,  'an'  mixed 
ale  five  cents  er  glass  fer  wot  ye  order. ' 

"'Does  one  hat  check  take  in  er  loidy?'  I  says, 
cause  I'm  onto  dem  mugs.  See? 

"'Sure,'  says  'e,  an'  I  says  dat  goes;  tinkin'  I'd 
take  de  Duchess  an'  paralyze  dose  mugs  dead. 

"  Well,  dat's  wot  she  done.  Lemme  tell  ye.  De 
Duchess  an'  me  was  dead  sore  'cause  of  me  string- 
in'  'er  dat  time  wot  I  took  Maggie  t'  de  teayter. 
'Member?  When  I  says  t'  'er,  says  I,  'Duchess, 
will  ye  go  t'  de  Roseleaf  dance  wid  me?'  she 
says,  'De  ye  mean  me,  er  de  ye  mean  Madmosell 
Maggie?'  which  is  wot  she  calls  Maggie,  bein' 
forn. 

"  So  I  jollies  'er  an'  tells  'er  dat  de  Roseleafs 
was  a  corker  wot  Maggie  wasn't  good  'nough  fer, 
an'  she  says  she'd  go,  an'  promises  t'  borry  de 
valley's  spiketail  coat  fer  me. 

"  Say,  yer  otter  seen  me !  I  was  up  t'  de  limit, 
only  de  coat  fitted  me  too  much.  De  sleeves  was 
over  me  fists,  an'  de  tails  was  outter  sight. 

"But,  holy  gee!  I  wasn't  in  it  'longside  de 
Duchess.  Ye'd  had  er  fit  ter  seen  'er.  It  was  like 
dis :  Miss  Fannie  had  'er  dress  made  wid  dem  hoops 
wot  mebbe  yuse  heard  tell  of,  'an  she  wored  it 
onct,  but  'is  Wiskers,  dat's  Miss  Fannie's  fadder, 
'e  near  died  er  laughin'  when  'e  seed  it,  an'  'e 


THE  DUCHESS  ON  THE  BOWERY.  83 

strings  'er  so  dat  she  never  wored  it  no  more,  but 
gives  it  t'  de  Duchess.  See? 

"  Say,  when  de  Duchess  snook  outter  de  house 
dat  night  an'  met  me  'roun  de  corner  I  taut  er 
balloon  was  chasin'  me. 

"  'Duchess,'  I  says,  when  I  could  talk  fer  laugh- 
in',  'Duchess,  dere'll  be  er  riot  at  de  Roseleaf  if 
yer  goes  in  dem  togs, '  I  says. 

"'T'ell  wid  de  Roseleaf,'  says  she,  only  not  in 
dose  words,  but  in  'er  forn  words  wot  means  dat. 
'Wot  fell, '  she  says.  'If  dose  Roseleaf  don't  knows 
wots  der  fashion,  I'll  learn  'em,'  she  says. 

"  Dere's  some  style  'bout  de  Duchess,  I'm  tellin' 
ye,  an'  I  was  stuck  on  'er  grit;  so  we  chases  our 
selves  down  t'  de  hall  where  de  dance  was.  Dey 
was  all  dere  when  we  got  dere,  an,'  say,  if  de 
King  an'  Queen  of  England  had  er  waltzed  in,  de 
Roseleafs  couldn't  been  no  more  paralyzed.  Dey 
was  dead  paralyzed,  I'm  tellin'  ye. 

"De  band,  wot  was  er  pianner  an  'er  fiddle,  had 
just  started  when  me  friend,  de  barkeep,  wot  was 
goin'  ter  lead  de  march,  'e  stopped  de  music,  an' 
'e  says:  'Loidies  and  gents,'  says  'e,  'dis  is  Mister 
Chimmie  Fadden  and  'is  loidy  fren';  Mr.  Fadden 
and  loidy,  de  Roseleaf,  loidies  an'  gents,'  'e  says. 

"  Wid  dat  de  Duchess  she  gives  'em  er  bow  wot 
killed  'em  dead. 


84  THE  DUCHESS  ON  THE  BOWERY. 

"  Say,  ye  otter  seen  it.  It  was  like  er  loidy  out 
on  top  er  de  stage.  Sure. 

"Den  me  friend,  de  barkeep,  'e  says:  'Mr.  Fad- 
den  an'  'is  loidy  fren'  will  lead,'  'e  says. 

"Say,  I  taut  I'd  go  tru  de  floor;  but  de  Duchess 
she  gives  me  er  brace,  an'  we  chases  off  wid  de 
band  er  play  in'  an'  all  de  gang  chasin'  after  us, 
an'  de  Duchess  steered  'em  'roun'  like  dey  never 
was  steered,  an'  'stid  er  stringin'  de  Duchess,  like 
I  taut  dey  would,  dey  gives  'er  de  greatest  game 
er  jolly  ye  ever  seed.  Wese  was  in  it,  and  dat's 
straight. 

"  I  can't  dance  dose  dinky  dances  wot  dey  dance 
in  games  like  dat,  only  jigs  I  can  dance,  dat's  all; 
so  me  fren,  de  barkeep,  waltzes  off  wid  de  Duch 
ess  after  de  march,  an'  I  takes  er  glass  er  mixed 
ale  wid  de  barkeep's  loidy  fren'.  Den  de  Duchess 
an'  de  barkeep  comes  up  and  he  sets  'em  up,  an' 
de  whole  gang  er  mugs  chases  up  dere  an'  nods  t' 
de  Duchess  fer  de  nex'  dance,  like  dey  do,  but  she 
wasn't  on  ter  wot  fell  dey  meaned,  an'  she  jes 
nods  back.  See?  Dat's  wot  made  trouble.  Well, 
den  dere  was  er  riot,  sure.  Every  mug  she  nodded 
ter  taut  dat  he'd  collared  de  nex'  dance,  an'  when 
de  band  started  de  music,  all  de  mugs  holds  out 
der  hands  an'  de  Duchess  was  paralyzed,  bein' 
fora  an'  not  tumblin'.  In  er  minute  dey  was  aJl 


THE  DUCHESS  ON  THE  BOWERY.  85 

scrappin'  beautiful,  an'  de  Duchess  made  me  make 
er  sneak  outter  de  hall  wid  'er,  dough  I  wanted  ter 
take  'er  hand  in  der  scrap  de  worst  way,  so  as  I 
wouldn't  seem  stuck  up." 


A  STUDIO,  A  CIGARETTE,  AND  CUPID. 


66  O AY,  I'm  feelin'  like  er  tree- times  winner; 
up  t'  de  limit,  an'  stayin'  dere  wid  bote 
feet.  Sure.  De  Duchess  an'  me  is  goin'  t'  get 
hitched,  an'  I'm  goin'  ter  be  Mr.  Burton's  man, 
wot's  de  mug  wot's  Miss  Fannie 's  felly.  Dat's 
right.  When?  Say,  lemme  tell  ye:  Miss 
Fannie  and  dat  mug,  Mr.  Burton,  is  goin'  t'  get 
married  an'  den  de  Duchess  an'  me  gets  married, 
so  as  ter  take  care  er  dem.  See?  Mr.  Burton's 
de  mug  wot  fixed  de  job,  'cause  'e's  been  kinder 
stuck  on  me  since  dat  time  when  I  squared  de 
game  wid  him  an'  'is  Whiskers,  wot's  Miss 
Fannie's  fadder. 

"  It  all  happened  along  wid  Miss  Fannie  gettin' 
'er  picture  took  by  one  er  dem  artis'  wot  paints 
tings  wid  paint.  Say,  dose  mugs,  dose  artis'  mugs, 
is  er  slick  gang.  All  dey  does  is  ter  muss  some 
paint  on  er  board,  and  den  dey  puts  it  on  er  dinky 
piece  er  cloth,  like  er  big  wipe,  an'  hully  gee!  wot 
deye  tink,  dey  buncos  suckers  fer  doin'  dat!  Say, 
I  ain't  stringin'  ye  fer  Miss  Fannie  tole  me,  an' 
wot  she  says  goes,  or  I  gets  licked.  Dey  gets  two 
hun.,  tree  hun.,  five  hun.,  an',  dis  is  straight, 

sometimes  er  tousan'  plunks. 

89 


90       A  STUDIO,    A   CIGARETTE,    AND  CUPID. 

"  I  tink  I'll  learn  dat  trade  meself,  one  er  dese 
days. 

"  Well,  I  was  tellin'  ye.  'Is  Wiskers  tole  Miss 
Fannie  t'  go  t'  one  er  dem  mugs  an'  get  'er  picture 
took,  so  'e  could  have  it  on  de  wall  when  she  chases 
'erself  off  wid  Mr.  Burton  an'  don't  live  to  home 
no  more. 

"  Den  she  gets  one  er  de  dresses  wot  'er  modder 
wored,  wot's  dead,  an'  de  Duchess  puts  it  in  er 
box,  and  wese  all  goes  down  t'  de  artis'  joint  in 
de  carriage.  De  Duchess  chases  up  wid  Miss 
Fannie  fer  t'  dress  'er,  an'  I  chases  up  after  dem 
wid  de  dress  in  de  box,  an'  when  I  gets  dere  I 
says  t'  meself,  says  I,  'Chimmie,'  I  says,  'if  yuse 
know  er  good  ting  when  ye  gets  it,  ye  wants  t' 
make  er  sneak  from  de  coachman  an'  stay  right 
here  where  it's  warm,  stid  er  goin'  down  dere  on 
de  street  an'  stringin'  de  coachman  where  it's  cold. 
See?' 

"While  de  Duchess  was  dressin'  Miss  Fannie 
in  de  dressin'  room  I  was  pipin'  off  de  artis'  joint, 
an'  'e  was  pipin'  off  me. 

"  Dose  artis'  is  all  forn  mugs.  Dey  comes  from 
forn  parts  wot  is  called  Bohemia,  'cause  de  Duchess 
tole  me  dey  was  all  Bohemians. 

"  I  don't  know  jes  where  dat  forn  part  is,  but 
dey  must  be  all  great  scrappers  dere,  fer  de  mug 


A  STUDIO,    A   CIGARETTE,    AND   CUPID.        91 

had  guns,  an'  pistols,  an'  knives,  an'  clubs  hung 
up  on  de  wall  wot  I  s'pose  'e  scrapped  wid  to  home 
before  'e  learned  dat  bunco  trade.  See?  Den  dere 
was  banjos,  an'  fiddles,  an'  beer  schooners,  an' 
pipes,  an'  I  don't  know  wot  fell  dere  wasn't. 
Standin'  roun'  on  sawbucks,  dere  was  lots  er  dose 
dinky  pictures  wot  de  mug  painted  wid  paint,  like 
wot  ye  see  in  de  beer  joints  on  de  Bowery,  only 
not  so  pretty ;  an'  dere  was  no  doors,  only  carpets 
hung  up. 

"  When  de  artis'  seed  me  pipin'  off  'is  game  'e 
says  ter  me,  says  'e,  'Wot's  yer  name,  me  boy?' 
'esays.  'Chimmie  Fadden,'  I  says,  *  an'  I  taut  I'd 
stay  up  here,  haviu'  rumatiz  bad  in  me  knee,  wot 
gets  worse  when  1  sits  on  de  box  wid  de  coach 
man,'  I  says,  stringin'  im.  See? 

"'Oh,'  'e  says,  'I  heerd  teller  yuse,'  says  'e, 
'from  Mr.  Burton,'  'e  says,  wot's  Miss  Fannie's 
felly.  'Yuse  can  stay  in  de  back  room  wid  de 
maid,'  says  'e,  'if  Miss  Fannie  don't  care.' 

"Den  'e  pipes  me  off  wid  'is  eyes  kinder  half 
shut.  See?  An'  'e  says  sometin'  'bout  me  beiii' 
er  good  type. 

"I  don't  know  jes  wat  'e  meaned,  but  when  'e 
says  'type'  dat  kinder  put  me  on  ter  'is  game,  an' 
I  says,  says  I:  'Are  yuse  one  er  dose  mugs  wat 
takes  tintypes  at  Coney  Island  in  de  summer?' 


92       A  STUDIO,   A  CIGARETTE,   AND  CUPID. 

Seein'  as  how  'is  game  was  takin'  pictures,  I  taut 
dat  was  right.  See? 

"Den  I  taut  'e'd  die  er  laughin',  dough  I  don't 
know  wat  fell  'e  was  laughin'  'bout,  'less  'e  taut 
I  was  a  stringin'  of  'im. 

"  Yuse  can't  tell  'bout  wot  forn  folks  is  tinkin' 
of,  but  if  'e  was  forn  he  speaked  English  jes  as 
good  as  me. 

"  Den  'e  gives  me  er  cigarette,  an'  says  dat  'e's 
glad  ter  find  I  was — dis  is  'is  very  word — dat  I 
was  as  'crackristic,  'as  Mr.  Burton  said  I  was. 

"  Say,  wot  fell !  Did  yuse  ever  hear  such  lang- 
wudge  like  dat?  I  was  tinkin'  ought  I  ter  slug  'im 
fer  it,  when  de  Duchess  chases  in  an'  says  dat  Miss 
Fannie  was  ready  fer  'im.  Den  'e  goes  in  ter  big 
room,  where  dere  was  lots  er  light,  an'  where  Miss 
Fannie  had  went  too,  an'  'e  begins  ter  take  her 
picture. 

"  De  Duchess  an'  me  we  peeked  tru  de  carpet  wot 
hung  where  dere  wasn't  no  door,  an'  I  seed  Miss 
Fannie. 

"  Say,  yuse  never  seed  nothin'  like  she  looked. 
I  don't  tink  dat  dose  angels  wot  she  tells  de  mis 
sion  kids  erbout  ain't  no  more  beauti fuller  dan 
she  was,  standin'  by  de  side  er  a  harp,  wot's  er 
kind  er  big  dago  banjo,  wot  she  plays  fer  'is  Wis- 
kers,  wot  'er  modder  uster  play. 


A  STUDIO,    A   CIGARETTE,    AND  CUPID.        93 

"  De  artis'  mug  stood  behind  er  patch  er  cloth 
wot  was  on  er  kinder  ladder,  an'  'e  was  paintin' 
t'  beat  'ell. 

"  Pretty  soon  de  Duchess  wispered  t'  me  would  I 
give  'er  a  cigarette,  an'  I  pinched  one  from  de 
artis'  box,  an'  we  sits  down  on  er  soffer  an'  de 
Duchess,  she  says,  kinder  pipin'  off  'er  cigarette 
smoke  'stid  er  me,  say  she:  'Did  yer  ast  Mr.  Bur 
ton  yet  for  t'  take  yuse  fer  'is  man?'  she  says. 

"Den  I  says  'No,'  I  says.  'Wot  fell,'  I  says. 
'Wot  fer?' 

"  Say,  she  give  me  er  look  like  I  was  er  farmer, 
er  dead  farmer;  but  den  she  says,  makin'  eyes 
again  at  'er  cigarette,  she  says:  'How  will  yuse 
be  wid  me,'  says  she,  'when  Mr.  Burton  an'  Miss 
Fannie  ''s  married,  'less  yuse  go  along  as  'is  man? 
See?' 

"  Say,  den  I  tumbled ;  an'  I  tumbled  so  hard  it 
jolted  all  de  breathe  outter  me  body.  I  couldn't 
open  me  mout.  Down  where  I  uster  live  I  was  de 
boss  jollier  wid  de  chippies,  but  dis  time  I  was 
nottin  but  er  farmer. 

"  De  Duchess  she  give  me  er  look  wot  paralyzed 
me  worsen  before,  an'  den  she  humped  'er  shoulders 
like  f orn  folks  do,  and  chased  'erself  roun'  de  room 
makin'  er  bluff  er  piping  de  pictures. 

"  Dat's  de  way  we  was  when  Mr.  Burton  chased 


94       A  STUDIO,    A   CIGARETTE,    AND  CUPID. 

in,  an'  'e  says  tru  de  carpet  door,  'Can  I  come  in?' 
Den  Miss  Fannie  she  says  tru  de  carpet,  'No,  yer 
can't,'  she  says.  But  'e  begs,  an'  she  lets  'im  in, 
an'  den  I  heard  dem  all  laughing  when  de  artis' 
tells  dem  'bout  me  astin'  'im  did  'e  take  tintypes 
at  Coney  Island. 

"'Yes,'  says  de  Duchess,  'yuse  can  talk  fast 
'nough  t'  everybody  but  me,'  she  says.  'Go  down 
t'  de  carriage  where  yuse  belong,'  she  says,  an'  she 
chases  'erself  inter  de  dressin'  room. 

"Dat's  de  way  I  comes  to  tackle  Mr.  Burton. 
I  nailed  'im  dat  night  when  'e  comes  t'  our  house, 
before  'e  got  in,  an'  I  says  t'  'im,  says  I :  'I'm  look 
ing  for  a  job  wid  yuse,'  I  says.  'If  I  gits  de  job 
wid  yuse  I  gits  hitched  t'  de  Duchess,  an'  if  I 
don't  I  goes  crazy,'  I  says. 

"  'E  taut  er  while,  an'  den  'e  says  :  'Well,  Chim- 
mie,  says  'e,  'yuse  done  me  er  good  trick  when 
yuse  squared  me  wid  Miss  Fannie's  fadder, '  says 
'e,  'an'  if  Miss  Fannie  says  so,  it  goes.' 

"'Yer  dead  on  dere,'  says  I.  'If  she  says  so  it 
goes,  sure.' 

"I  don't  know  wot  kinder  game  Mr.  Burton 
gives  Miss  Fannie,  er  wot  Miss  Fannie  says  t'  de 
Duchess,  but  de  nex'  day  de  Duchess  comes  t'  me 
an'  she  says:  'So  yuse  is.goin'  t'  be  Mr.  Burton's 
man,'  says  she. 


A  STUDIO,   A  CIGARETTE,    AND  CUPID.        95 

"  Den  I  takes  ei  big  brace  an'  I  says,  'Not  on 
yer  life,  Duchess,  says  I;  'not  on  yer  life,  wid- 
out  I'm  yer  man  first,'  I  says,  an'  dat's  wot  I 
said.  See? 

"Den  de  Duchess  sbe  turns  red,  an'  she  says 
it'll  be  all  right  when  I  learns  to  talk  English ;  but 
dat's  only  'er  way  er  jollyin'  me,  'cause  if  dere's 
one  ting  'bout  me  wot's  up  t'  de  limit,  it's  me 
English.  See?" 


CHIMMIE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  MAREY. 


**T  ONG  time  since  ye  seen  me?  Cert.  Don't 
ye  know  de  reason  ?  Why,  I  was  married. 
Sure.  I  knowed  ye'd  die  when  I  tole  ye.  Yes,  it 
was  de  Duchess;  I  guess  ye  knowed  dat.  Well, 
lemme  tell  ye.  It  was  de  corkin'est  weddin'  dere 
ever  was,  wid  such  mugs  as  me  an'  de  Duchess 
doin'  de  principal  event  er  de  evenin'. 

"  Say,  I  never  taut  dere  was  so  much  flim-flam 
'bout  gettin'  ready  to  be  married.  I  near  got  de 
rattles  onct,  an'  was  goin'  t'  make  de  gran'  sneak; 
but  I  took  er  brace,  'cause  I  was  tinkin'  dat  if  I 
snook,  dat  it  would  queer  Miss  Fannie's  game,  an' 
I  wouldn't  queer  Miss  Fannie's  game  if  I  had  t' 
set  up  er  funeral  'stid  er  a  weddin'. 

"  Well,  de  first  fake  wot  paralyzed  me  was  de 
Duchess  say  in'  dere  must  be  wot  she  called  er 
marriage  contract.  Say,  it  was  worse  dan  gettin' 
outter  jail  on  bail.  I  guess  wese  wouldn't  be  mar 
ried  yet  if  it  wasn't  fer  Mr.  Burton,  wot's  Miss 
Fannie's  felly.  'E  an'  Miss  Fanriie,  dey  was  bote 
near  crazy  'bout  oar  weddin',  and  was  fussin' 
'bout  it  more  dan  dey  is  'bout  dere  own. 

"Well,  Mr.  Burton  'e  sent  fer  me  an'  tells  me 
t'  come  t'  'is  chambers.  'E  says  t'  me,  says  'e, 

va 


100     CHIMMIE  AND   THE  DUCHESS  MARRY. 

'Chames,'  'e  says,  'come  dis  evenin'  t'  me  cham 
bers.  I  calls  me  'partments  me  chambers  fer  dis 
'casion  only,'  says  'e,  givin'  me  de  wink,  "cause 
dis  is  er  legal  matter,  an'  in  de  ten  years  I've  been 
'mitted  t'  de  bar,'  says  'e,  'dis  is  de  first  time  I 
ever  had  er  case. ' 

"  Dose  was  'is  very  words,  wot's  de  way  'e  talks 
wen  'e'  is  jolly  in',  which  'e  mostly  is. 

"So  dat  night  I  chases  meself  t'  'is  rooms,  an', 
say,  ye  otter  see  dem  tings  'e's  got.  It's  worse 
dan  dat  artis'  mug's  studio  wot  I  was  tellin'  ye 
of.  Dere  was  pelts  an'  hides  an'  skins  an'  furs  an' 
guns  an'  swords  an'  boxin'  gloves  an'  dinky  pipes, 
wot  dey  smokes  in  schools  in  forn  parts  where  Mr. 
Burton  was,  an'  steins  an'  pictures,  an'  more  tings 
dan  dere  is  in  er  store. 

"  'Well,'  'e  says  t'  me,  perlite  as  a  acter,  says  'e, 
'Mr.  Fadden, '  'e  says,  'dis  evenin'  yuse  is  me 
client,  an'  not  Miss  Fannie's  footman,  which  'fords 
me  de  op'tunity  of  offerin'  ye  er  glass  er  whiskey 
an'  water  an'  a  cigarette,  which  I  am  tole  is  de 
first  ting  t'  do  in  beginnin'  de  practice  of  de  law. 
Havin'  somewhat  neglected  me  practice,  I  may  be 
permitted  t'  offer  ye  two  glasses  er  wliiskey  an' 
water  if  yuse  is  so  disposed, '  says  'e. 

"Say,  did  ye  ever  hear  such  langwudge  like  dat? 
Ain't  'e  er  chim-dandy? 


CHIMMIE  AND   THE  DUCHESS  MARRY.      101 

"Den  'e  goes  on  an'  gives  me  er  long  song  an' 
dance  'bout  as  how  Hortense,  wot's  de  Duchess, 
bein'  French,  she  has  dinky  notions  'bout  marriage 
contracts,  an'  as  how  'e  is  'er  lawyer  as  well  as 
mine.  Says  'e:  'Bein'  de  lawyer  fer  bote  sides  in 
'er  case  is  not  'cordin'  t'  de  strick  rules  er  practice, ' 
'e  says,  'buter  strugglin'  young  barester  like  me,' 
says  'e,  givin'  me  de  wink,  'must  be  permitted  t' 
cut  bait  while  de  sun  shines. ' 

"Say,  did  ye  ever  hear  such  er  jollier  like  'im? 
'E's  up  t'  de  limit.  Sure.  I  tink  'e  was  havin' 
fun  wid  'imself  as  well  as  jollyin'  me. 

"Den  he  says:  'Hortense  comes  t' ye  wid  one 
tousan'  dollars.  De  ye  raise  de  ante,  or  de  ye  only 
see  it,  an'  call  de  loidy?' 

"Say,  den  I  was  dead  paralyzed.  I  taut  de 
Duchess  was  makin'  a  farmer  of  me.  I  felt  like  er 
quitter.  Sure.  I  says  t'  'im,  says  I,  'Wot  fell!' 
says  I,  like  dat,  I  says:  'Wot  fell!'  'cause  I 
couldn't  say  nottin'  else.  'Wot  fell!'  See? 
Den  I  scraped  tru  me  pockets,  an'  all  I  could 
cough  up  was  sixty-five  cents. 

"  Mr.  Burton  looked  at  it,  an'  all  of  er  suddint  he 
jumped  up  an'  went  in  er  nodder  room.  'E  must 
have  had  er  fit  in  dere  er  sometin',  from  de  noises. 
Wen  'e  comes  back  'e  had  on  er  dinky  white  wig 
wid  er  tail  f  it  an'  'er  blue  bag  in  'is  hand  wid 


102     CHIMMIE  AND  THE  DUCHESS  MARRY. 

papers  in  it.  'E  was  as  sober  as  er  Judge  in  de 
Tombs  when  he  says :  '  Our  case  is  not  so  bad  as  it 
looks.  In  fact,  I  would  not  just  say  it  is  a  case  of 
wot  t'ell.  Yuse  have  never  drawed  no  wages 
from  Miss  Fannie,'  'e  says. 

"'No,'  I  says.  'She  gives  me  room,  me  grub, 
an'  me  close.  Ain't  dat  ernough?'  s^iys  I. 

"'She  tinks  not,'  says  'e,  'an'  wid  'er  help  at 
figurin',  in  which  I  never  took  no  prize',  'e  says, 
'I  find  dat  dere  is  one  hundred  an'  fifty  dollars 
wages  comin'  ye  which  she  'as  saved  for  ye. ' 

"  Say,  dat  broke  me  all  up,  'cause  I  never  taut  I 
was  wort  more  dan  me  keep;  but  I  couldn't  say 
nottin',  an'  Mr.  Burton  'e  goes  on  an'  'e  says: 
'Miss  Fannie's  f adder,  dat  time  ye  licked  de  villan 
wot  'suited  Miss  Fannie,  'er  fadder  put  $500  in  de 
bank  fer  ye,  and  I  figure  dat  dat  makes  $650,'  'e 
says. 

"  Well,  I  was  knocked  silly,  an'  Mr.  Burton  'e 
got  up  an'  went  in  de  odder  room  again,  an'  comes 
back  wid  er  long  black  kinder  nightgown  on.  'E 
sets  down  again,  and  says:  'Bein'  de  'torney  inde 
case  for  yuse  an'  Hortense  an'  Miss  Fannie  an'  'er 
fadder,  I  feel  dat  de  dignity  of  de  position  requires 
all  de  legal  fixins,  which  is  why  I  wears  de  gown 
an'  wig.'  See? 

"Say,    de   nex'   fake   was    de  funniest   of   all. 


CHIMMIE  AND   THE  DUCHESS  MARRY.      103 

'Hortense,'  says  'e,  has  'sometimes  borryed  small 
sums  from  ye,  she  tells  me. ' 

"  'E  was  meanin'  de  times  de  Duchess  pulled 
me  leg  fer  de  boodle  wot  I  touched  mugs  fer,  wot 
I  was  tellin'  ye  'bout. 

"'Well,'  Mr.  Burton  goes  on,  'cause  I  was  so 
silly  I  couldn't  chip  in,  an'  'e  says,  'Hortense  has 
saved  up  dose  sums,  an'  dey  make  $G5  more,  which 
we  adds  t'  de  ante,  an'  dat  makes  $715,'  says  'e. 

"  'Hold  on,'  says  I.  'Does  dat  all  belong  t'  me? 
Wot  fell  will  I  do  wid  it  all?' 

'"We'll  talk  'bout  dat  later,'  says  'e.  'We're 
shy  on  our  ante  yet.  Miss  Fannie  an'  me,'  says 
'e,  'loans  ye  'nough  t'  make  up  de  tousan',  an'  ye 
pays  back  outter  yer  wages  as  me  valley.' 

"  Den  'e  gets  out  er  lot  er  papers  an'  I  signs  me 
name,  an'  de  nex'  day  Miss  Fannie  an'  de  Duchess 
an'  me  all  chases  down  t'  Mr.  Burton's  rooms, 
where  was  er  mug  dey  calls  er  notry  public,  an'  'e 
asts  er  lot  er  questions,  an'  fixes  dinky  red  stamps 
on  de  papers  an'  everybody  swears  an'  signs 
names,  an'  dat  ends  de  circus. 

"Say,  I  had  t'  pinch  meself  an'  say  'Chimmie, 
is  dis  yuse,  or  is  ye  dreamin  ?'  'cause  er  all  de  flim 
flam,  an'  havin'  er  tousan  plunks,  an'  de  whole 
bisness  near  sets  me  crazy. 

"Well,  de  nex'  night  was  de  weddin'.     Say,  it 


104     CHIMMIE  AND   THE  DUCHESS  MARRY. 

was  great.  Miss  Fannie  an'  Mr.  Burton  dey  was 
fussin'  and  fixin'  de  whole  day  in  dedin  in'  room, 
an'  jollyiii'  an'  orderin,'  an'  makin'  bluffs  at  get- 
tin'  mad,  an'  den  makin'  up,  'till  I  says  t'  meself, 
says  I,  'Chimmie,  yer  not  in  it.'  But  den  I  had 
t'  get  busy  an'  say  dose  words  wot's  in  de  book 
wot  Mr.  Burton  read,  pretendin'  'e  was  de  parson, 
so's  I  wouldn't  make  no  bad  break  when  de  real 
weddin'  was. 

"Well,  after  dinner  all  de  help,  an'  de  folks,  'is 
Wiskers,  Miss  Fannie,  an'  Mr.  Burton,  wid  de  par 
son,  chases  in  dedinin'  room.  'Is  'Wiskers' valley 
was  me  second. 

"  'Bout  dat  time  I  didn't  know  wedder  me  name 
was  Chames  or  Dennis.  Tings  was  kinder  goin' 
on  widout  me. 

"All  of  er  suddint  de  Duchess  sails  in,  wid 
Maggie  de  maid  chasin'  after  'er.  Say,  ye  should 
er  seen  'er!  She  was  all  rigged  out  in  white,  wid 
flowers  on  'er  head,  an'  er  veil  er  mile  long,  an' 
she  was  er  wonder,  sure. 

"  Miss  Fannie  gives  'er  a  smile,  an'  'is  Wiskers 
steps  up  an'  hands  er  over  t'  where  me  an'  de 
parson  was,  an'  so  we  was  married. 

"  After  de  parson  was  all  tru,  wot  de  ye  tink  'e 
did?  'E  braces  up  an'  gives  de  Duchess  er  kiss, 
an'  sajT,  'is  Wiskers  waltzes  in  an'  'e  gives  'er  er 


CHIMMIE  AND   THE  DUCHESS  MARRY.     105 

kiss,  an'  holy  gee!  I  tink  Mr.  Burton  was  goin'  t' 
take  'er  hand  in  de  game,  but  Miss  Fannie  gives 
'im  er  look,  den  e'  didn't. 

"  Den  'is  Wiskers  goes  up  t'  de  big  punch-bowl 
wot  Miss  Fannie  had  fixed  wid  claret  an'  oranges 
an'  dose  tings,  an'  de  butler  passes  all  hands  er 
glass,  an'  'is  Wiskers  says  'I  'drinks  t'  Mr.  an' 
Mrs.  Chames  Fadden,'  'e  says. 

"All  hands  drinks,  an'  den  de  folks  goes  away. 
Miss  Fannie  she  went  last,  an'  when  she  passed 
where  we  was  she  says  t'  de  Duchess,  'Ye  look 
very  pretty,  Hortense.' 

"She  didn't  say  nottin'  t'  me,  but  she  shook 
hands  wid  me.  I  was  glad  she  did  dat.  I  never 
touched  her  hand  before. 

"  Well,  after  de  folks  left,  all  de  help  dey  began 
jabberin'  an'  jollyin'  like  er  lot  er  dinky  magpipes, 
an'  makin'  speeches,  an'  gettin'  funny,  till  ye 
couldn't  rest. 

"  'Is  Wiskers  sent  fer  de  butler  an'  tole  'im  not  t' 
let  de  punch  bowl  get  empty,  an'  'e  never  did,  but 
'e  had  t'  keep  'imself  busy.  Sure. 

"  After  dat  we  started  on  our  wed  din'  journey. 
Say,  dat  was  great.  It  was  t'  Niag'ra  Falls. 
Ever  hear  er  dem?  Say,  I'd  only  been  t'  Coney 
Island  an'  Albany  before,  an'  I  taut  de  Pacific 
Ocean  was  only  er  little  way  furder  dan  de  Harlem 


106     CHIMMIE  AND   THE  DUCHESS  MARRY. 

River;  but,  holy  gee!   ye  don't  get  no  more  dan 
started  wen  ye  cross  de  Harlem. 

"Can't  tell  ye  'bout  dat  trip  now,  'cause  I've 
got  t'  go  an'  help  Mr.  Burton  get  ready  fer  'is 
weddin'.  Tell  ye  'bout  de  trip  some  odder  time. 
S'long." 


'ER  GRACE,  DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN. 


"T  WAS  goin'  t'  tell  ye  'bout  our  wed  din'  journey, 
wot  de  Duchess  an'  me  took  when  wese  was 
married.  Say,  it  was  up  t'  de  limit  an'  near  out- 
ter  sight. 

"We  started  like  wese  was  just  goin'  'cross  de 
Harlem,  only  it  was  in  er  car  wot  has  bunks  in  it, 
wid  er  coon  t'  let  down  de  bunks  an'  make  up  de 
beds. 

"  Dere  was  er  lot  er  mugs  an'  womin  an'  kids  in 
de  car,  an'  I  was  tinkin'  where  dey  was  all  goin' 
t'  sleep,  when  de  Duchess  tole  me  'bout  de  bunks. 
I  taut  if  wese  was  all  goin'  t'  sleep  like  in  de  cars 
when  ye  come  home  on  de  late  train  from  Coney 
Island,  wese  might  as  well  stopped  t'  home  and 
saved  our  boodle. 

"  Say,  de  train  wasn't  outter  de  depot  before  all 
de  folks  in  de  car  was  dead  onto  us,  an'  kinder 
givin'  us  de  laugh,  an'  I  says  to  de  Duchess,  I 
says,  .'Wot  fell?'  I  says,  'wot  fell?"  like  dat, 
'cause  I  was  feelin'  like  I  was  er  farmer;  but  I 
oughten  f  feel  like  er  farmer,  'cause  I  had  on  me 
best  close,  an'  de  Duchess — say,  ye  otter  seed  de 
Duchess!  she  was  er  wonder!  Dere  wasn't  er 

woman  in  de  car  was  dressed  like  'er.     Sure. 

109 


110     'ER  GRACE,  DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN. 

"  When  I  asked  'er  why  was  all  de  folks  pipin' 
us  off  so,  she  said  because  I  had  me  arm  'round 
'er  waist,  an'  was  jollyin'  'er  so. 

"  Say,  dat  give  me  'er  fit,  an'  I  says  t'  er,  says 
I,  'Duchess,'  I  says  out  loud,  so  dat  er  dude  in  de 
next  seat  could  hear  me  wot  had  lost  half  of  'is 
eyeglasses  an'  was  pipin'  us  off  wid  only  one  glass 
up  t'  'is  eye;  I  says,  'Duchess,  if  I  feels  like  put- 
tin'  me  arm  'round  yer  waist,  I'll  put  it  dere  if  I 
has  t'  tump  every  dude  in  de  car,'  an'  t'  show  I 
was  makin'  no  bluff  I  gives  'er  a  kiss  as  square  as 
ever  ye  seed. 

"Say,  dat  dude  must  'er  lost  sometin'  outter  de 
car,  fer  'e  turned  an'  looked  outter  de  window, 
an'  'e  never  looked  nowhere  else  till  'e  went  t'  bed. 

"De  Duchess  she  made  er  bluff  at  kickin',  but 
she  wasn't  kickin'  very  hard,  fer  wot  I  says  an' 
does  goes  wid  de  Duchess,  'cept 'bout  boodle.  She 
runs  de  money  end.  Sure.  I  ain't  in  it  when  it 
comes  t'  de  boodle,  but  in  all  de  odder  games  I'm 
er  dead  easy  winner. 

"Well,  we  went  ridin'  along,  an'  ridin'  along, 
till  I  kinder  taut  we'd  be  runnin'  in  ter  de  Pacific 
Ocean  if  we  didn't  pull  up;  an'  den  de  coon  comes 
up  an'  says  do  we  want  de  bert  made  up. 

"  I  don't  know  wot  it  was  dat  made  de  Duchess 
so  mad,  but  I  taut  she'd  slug  dat  coon — de  porter 


'ER  GRACE,    DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN.      Ill 

dey  calls  Mm — 'cause  'e  asks  us  first,  before  any 
of  de  odder  folks,  would  we  have  our  bunk  made 
up.  Say,  I  didn't  see  no  'casion  fer  a  scrap,  so  I 
says  to  de  porter,  says  I,  'Seein'  as  how  dere  ain't 
no  tee-a-ter  t'  go  to,'  I  says,  'an'  dere  ain't  no 
more  meals  t'  eat,  an'  as  I  fergot  t'  order  de  band 
'round  t'  play,  yuse  may  as  well  get  busy  an' 
make  up  de  bunk,'  I  says  t'  'im,  like  dat,  I  says. 
See? 

"  Den  all  de  folks  dey  laughed  fit  t'  kill  dere- 
selfs,  'cept  dat  dude,  who  was  lookin'  out  of  'is 
window  like  'e  hadn't  found  wot  'e'd  lost  yet.  De 
Duchess  she  laughed,  too,  an'  said  I  was  er  little 
beast,  only  she  didn't  say  it  like  she  had  er 
mad  on. 

"  Well,  de  next  mornin'  wese  was  in  Niag'ra, 
an'  we  got  in  a  bus  wot  took  us  to  de  hotel  wot 
Mr.  Burton,  Miss  Fannie's  felly,  told  me  t'  go  to. 

"  When  we  got  t'  de  hotel  er  mug  tells  me  t' 
register  our  names  on  er  big  book  wot  was  in  de 
office,  an'  den  1  near  had  er  fit,  fer  de  Duchess 
has  de  craziest  name  ye  ever  seed,  an'  I  never 
could  spell  it  in  a  tousand  37ears.  But  I  tinks  t' 
meself,  I  tinks,  'Wot  fell!'  I  tinks,  I'll  make  er 
grand  bluff  an'  dey '11  never  tumble,'  so  I  braces 
up  t'  de  register  an'  writes:  'Duchess,'  bold  as  er 
writin'  teacher,  an'  den  I  writes  'Hortense, '  'cause 


112     'ER  GRACE,   DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN. 

I  can  spell  dat  straight,  an'  den  I  was  stuck,  so  I 
just  writes  'La  V-  '  bold,  an'  scriggled  er  lot  er 
dinky  letters  clear  'cross  de  page,  an'  on  de  next 
line  I  write*  me  name  clear  as  print. 

"  De  mug  behind  de  counter,  wot  was  de  hotel 
clerk,  'e  turns  de  book  'round  an'  'e  near  has  er  fit, 
an'  begins  scrapin'  an'  bowin'  an'  says  perlite  as 
er  acter,  'e  says:  'How  long  will  de  Duchess 
Ortons  La-um-t'ra-ra  stay  here?'  'e  says,  like  dat, 
'De  Duchess  Ortons  La-um-t'ra-ra.'  See?  Mak- 
in'  er  bluff  at  de  last  name  'cause  'e  couldn't  read 
me  writin.  See?  'De  Duchess,'  I  says  as  perlite 
as  im  'cause  I  wasn't  onto  'is  game,  so  I  played 
light,  says  I,  'De  Duchess  leaves  dis  evenin','  I 
says. 

"'Sorry  she  can't  stay  longer,'  'e  says;  "spose 
she's  hurrin'  on  t'  Chicago,  like  de  rest.  Where 
is  'er  suite?'  says  'e. 

"'Oh,  'er  suite  is  kinder  chasin'  dereselfs,'  I 
says,  careless  like. 

"'Bein'  entertained  by  de  Committee  of  One 
Hundred?'  'e  says. 

"Say,  I  taut  first  'e  might  be  stringin'  me,  but 
'e  was  perlite  all  de  time,  so  I  just  lit  er  cigarette 
an'  looked  knowin'  'till  I  could  get  onto  'is  game. 

"Den  'e  yells  out,  'Front!  Show  de  Duchess  up 
t'  parlor  one,'  an'  all  de  kids  in  buttons  near 


'ER  GRACE,    DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN.      113 

breaks  dere  necks  yankin'  me  baggage  upstairs 
an'  chasin'  after  de  Duchess  f  fetch  'er  up  stairs; 
an'  de  clerk  says  t'  me:  'Will  'er  Grace  breakfast 
in  'er  room?" 

"  'Wot  Grace?'  says  I. 

"'De  Duchess,'  says  'e. 

"'Cert,'  says  I.  'She'll  breakfast  dere,  an' so 
will  I.' 

"  'You're  'er  American  coorior,  I  'spose,'  says  'e, 
an'  I  says  'e  was  er  clever  young  man  t'  find  it 
out,  dough  wot  fell  'e'd  found  out  I  couldn't  tum 
ble  to. 

"  Den  all  de  mugs  in  de  office  began  sneakin'  up 
t'  de  register  an'  lookin'  at  wot  I'd  writ  dere,  an' 
dey  was  all  near  havin'  a  fit  over  it.  I  was  'fraid 
somebody  would  ask  me  t'  spell  de  name  out,  so  I 
chased  meself  upstairs,  an',  holy  gee!  dere  was 
de  Duchess  in  de  swellest  rooms  in  de  house,  wid 
er  gang  of  servants  settin'  de  table,  an'  puttin' 
flowers  in  de  room,  an'  scraping  an'  bo  win',  an' 
askin'  wot  fell  could  dey  do  fer  'er  Grace. 

"  Say,  de  Duchess  is  er  dead  sport,  an'  she  was 
just  lookin'  grand  an'  sayin'  nottin',  but  when  I 
comes  in  she  takes  me  in  de  nex'  room  an'  asks 
wot  game  I'd  been  up  to.  I  told  'er  de  whole 
game  from  de  start,  an'  when  I  wus  done  she  taut 
er  while,  an'  den  she  nearly  dies  laughin',  an' 


114      'ER   GRACE,    DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN. 

says  she  tumbles  t'  de  whole  racket.  She  said  de 
clerk  had  mistook  'er  for  one  er  dem  forn  queens 
wot  was  goin'  to  Chicago,  where  dey  is  havin'  er 
big  blowout  for  Columbus,  er  sometin'. 

"'But  why  didn't  ye  put  me  name  down  on  de 
register  proper?'  she  says. 

"'I  couldn't  spell  your  dinky  name,'  I  says. 

"Den  she  yelled  murder  wid  laughin',  and  near 
rolled  off  'er  chair.  'Me  name  is  Mrs.  Fadden,' 
says  she.  'Can't  ye  spell  dat?' 

"  Say,  I'm  er  farmer  if  I  ever  taut  er  dat  before. 
It  just  knocked  me  silly  t'  tink  er  de  Duchess  bein' 
named  Fadden. 

" '  Hortense  Fadden  is  me  name, '  says  she,  gi v- 
in'  me  er  kiss. 

"I  was  fer  goin'  down  t'  de  office  an'  fixin' 
tings  all  right,  but  de  Duchess  said  not  t'  be  in  er 
hurry  'bout  it. 

"Well,  we  had  breakfast.  Say,  ye  never  seed 
such  er  breakfast  in  all  yer  life !  It  was  wot  de 
Duchess  called  'Dey  shunay  ah  la  foorshet,'  but  it 
was  up  t'  de  limit,  just  as  hard,  if  it  did  have  er 
dago  name.  De  funny  ting  'bout  it  was  dat  we 
had  de  coffee  at  de  end  'stid  er  at  de  first.  I 
spose  I'll  hare  t'  learn  dose  dago  tricks  now. 

"When  wese  was  done  de  clerk  come  up  an' 
says  would  'er  Grace  like  t'  ride  t'  de  Falls,  an' 


'ER   GRACE,    DE  DUCHESS   OF  FADDEN.     115 

de  Duchess  made  er  bluff  at  not  knowin'  wot  e' 
said,  an'  I  made  er  bluff  at  tellin'  'er  in  forn  talk. 
I  just  let  out  er  lot  er  lingo,  an'  de  Duchess — 
say,  she  is  er  sport,  sure — she  jabbered  back  wid- 
out  winkin',  an'  I  says  t'  de  clerk  dat  de  Duchess 
would  go  t'  de  Falls  when  de  carriage  was  ready. 

"Den  de  clerk  said,  'De  carriage  waits,  yer 
Grace, '  an'  backed  out  er  de  room  like  'is  pants 
was  tored  behind. 

"  Say,  I  ain't  stringin'  ye  er  little  bit.  When 
we  went  downstairs  dere  was  er  victoria  wid  four 
horses  waitin, '  an'  de  Mayor,  or  some  big  mug  of 
de  town,  got  in  wid  us,  an'  er  lot  more  chased 
along  behind  in  carriages. 

"  I  was  gettin'  rattled,  but  de  Duchess  gave  me 
er  nudge  t'  brace;  an'  I  braced.  Everyting  de 
mug  wid  us  said  I  pretended  to  say  in  dago  t'  de 
Duchess,  an'  I  was  tinkin'  wot  fell  I'd  do  if  'e 
should  ring  in  some  dago  of  'is  own,  but  'e  never. 
De  Duchess  would  jaw  back  in  'er  forn  talk,  an* 
I'd  make  er  bluff  at  tellin'  de  mug  wot  she  said, 
an'  I  jollied  'im  'till  de  seat  wasn't  big  enough  t' 
hold  him. 

"Well,  dey  took  us  everywhere,  an'  down  er 
dinky  slide  railroad  wot's  worse  dan  de  razzle- 
dazzle  at  Coney  Island,  an'  blowed  us  off  t'  wine 
an'  speeches,  an'  wrhen  we  got  back  de  Duchess 


116     'ER  GRACE,    DE  DUCHESS  OF  FADDEN. 

told  me  t'  give  de  big  mug  er  invite  t'  dinner 
wid  us. 

"I  was  near  crazy  wid  all  de  jawin'  an'  de 
drinkin'  an'  seein'  de  mug  kiss  de  Duchess's  hand 
when  'e  backed  out. 

"  After  dinner  it  was  train  time,  an'  I  chased 
down  t'  de  office  an'  asks  wot's  de  bill. 

"  Say,  wot  de  ye  tink?  Dat  clerk  says  dere  was 
no  bill ;  dat  de  Government  paid  de  whole  shot. 
Sure! 

"I  says  de  Government  is  er  dead  sport,  an' 
I  tipped  all  de  kids  an'  waiters  an'  drivers  wot 
took  us  t'  de  train,  an'  den  erway  we  goes. 

"  Well,  when  we  was  on  de  car  de  Duchess  says, 
'Chames,  wot  do  ye  tink  of  yer  wife?"  says  she. 

"'Duchess,'  says  I,  *er  Bowery  boy  and  er 
French  maid  is  hard  t'  beat,'  I  says.  See?" 


SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M'FADDEN. 


66  O  AY,  didn't  I  tell  you  wese  was  all  comin'  t' 
de  Fair?  Well,  de  whole  gang  of  us  is  here ; 
Miss  Fannie,  Mr.  Burton,  me,  de  Duchess,  de 
mug  dat  stood  up  wid  Mr.  Burton,  and  'is — his — 
Whiskers.  I  taut  I'd  never  find  you.  Sure. 

"  What  de  you  tink  of  de  Fair?  I  tink  I'd  get 
stuck  on  dat  Midway,  if  it  wasn't  so  far  from  de 
Bow'ry.  I  never  knowed  dere  was  so  many  kinds 
of  dagos  in  de  world,  like  dere  is  in  dat  Midway. 

"Did  you  hear  'bout  me  scrap  dere?  Dat's 
right.  I  had  a  corkin'  good  scrap,  and  done  a 
dago,  but  de  Duchess  she  done  me.  Yes,  dat's 
right.  I  got  a  kick  in  de  ribs  from  dat  dago  what 
wasn't  no  love  tap,  but  dat  didn't  hurt  near  so 
much  as  de  Duchess  hurted  me,  and  she  never 
touched  me.  It  was  just  her  little  joke,  but  de 
more  I  tink  of  it  de  more  I  tink  wot  fell. 

"  Wait  'till  I  tell  you  de  whole  game  from  de 
start,  'cause  it  made  me  dead  sore  and  p'raps  it'll 
take  de  sore  outter  me  t'  jaw  'bout  it. 

"  It  was  de  day  before  de  Derby,  what's  de  big 
race  dey  has  here,  like  de  Brooklyn  Handicap, 
only  dey  calls  it  de  Derby,'  cause  all  de  men  has  t' 

wear  Derby  hats  'stead  of  straw  hats,  for  if  you 

119 


120          SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M'FADDEN. 

trow  a  straw  hat  up  in  de  air  when  de  race  is  over 
it  comes  down  black  from  de  smoke  dey  make  t' 
keep  de  sun  from  paralyzing  you.  See? 

"Well,  dat  evenin'  Miss  Fannie  and  Mr.  Bur 
ton  was  goin'  out  t'  eat  dinner  wid  a  mug  Mr. 
Burton  was  to  school  wid,  who  has  t'  live  here 
'cause  his  fadder  won't  give  him  no  plunks  to  live 
nowhere  else  wid.  After  I'd  dressed  Mr.  Burton, 
and  de  Duchess  she'd  dressed  Miss  Fannie,  den 
dat  mug  what  stood  up  wid  Mr.  Burton,  de  small 
bottle  mug  what  I  was  tellin'  you  'bout,  what  dey 
calls  Paul  and  I  calls  Mr.  Paul,  cause  his  odder 
name  is  two  long  names  wid  a  stop  in  de  middle, 
what  I  can't  say  straight,  he  says  t'  me,  says  he: 
'Chimmie,'  he  says,  sober  like  a  Police  Justice, 
'Chimmie,  I'm  goin'  t'  expand  me  mind  wid  use 
ful  'formation,  and  distend  me  stommick  wid 
coolin'  bevedges' — dem's  his  very  langwudges — 
'on  de  Midway,'  says  he,  'dis  evenin','  he  says. 
'If  yuse  can  tear  yourself  from  Horteuse,'  says  he, 
meanin'  de  Duchess,  'an'  come  wid  me  as  friend, 
philos'pher,  and  guide,'  he  says,  never  makin' a 
break  wid  dem  dude  words,  just  like  a  actor,  'you 
can  pay  de  bills  outer  me  wad  and  keep  de  change, ' 
says  he. 

"  I  was  tinkin'  de  Duchess  would  make  a  kick 
'bout  me  goin'  out  dere  widout  her,  so  I  strings 


SIR  JAMES   FADDEN  H' FAD  DEN.  121 

her  a  little.  I  gives  her  a  song  and  dance  'boui 
wantin'  t'  go  t'  de  race  track  and  see  a  stable  boy 
I  knowed  and  get  a  pointer  on  de  Derby.  But  de 
Duchess,  she  never  kicked;  only  told  me  t'  chase 
meself  home  before  mornin'  and  she'd  square  it  wid 
Mr.  Burton  when  he  come  home. 

"  Dat  was  dead  easy,  so  me  and  Mr.  Paul  we 
chases  ourselves  out  t'  de  Midway  on  de  cable  train 
what  runs  like  a  hurry-call  amb'lance. 

"  First  we  goes  t'  de  joint  what  dey  calls  Old 
Vienna  for  dinner,  and  when  I  asks  de  boss  whert 
was  de  servants'  table,   meanin'   t'  go  dere,  Mr 
Paul  he  says  quick,  'Our  servant  won't  be  here,' 
says  he,  'I  sent  him  home.' 

"  Den  he  tells  me  t'  sit  down  wid  him  and  dine, 
and  he  says:  'Chimmie,  you're  not  here  to-night 
as  a  servant,  but  as  a  doctor.  You're  curin'  my 
blues  wid  de  sight  of  sometin'  dat  looks  like  New 
York, '  says  he. 

"Well,  we  was  eatin'  our  grub  wid  plenty  ot 
beer,  'cause  dey  didn't  have  no  mixed  ale,  sittin' 
out  in  a  tent  widout  no  sides  to  it,  wid  a  band 
playin'  alongside,  when  Mr.  Paul  all  of  a  suddint 
grabbed  me  and  whispers:  'Here's  some  mugs 
comin'  I  want  t'  string.  Get  on  to  me  game  quick 
and  jolly  along  as  I  tip  you.' 

"  Say,  dat's  de  kind  of  langwudge  I'm  dead  onto, 


122          SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M' FADDEN. 

and  Mr.  Paul  can  talk  it  like  bo  was  borried  on  de 
Bow'ry.  I  didn't  know  what  was  comin',  so  I  just 
cocked  me  eye  and  ear  t'  get  onto  de  lay. 

"  In  a  second  dere  was  two  mugs  a  shakin'  hands 
wid  Mr.  Paul,  and  askin'  why  hadn't  he  let  dem 
knew  he  was  in  town.  Den  Mr.  Paul  he  gave  me 
de  game  widout  lookin'  or  winkin'  at  me.  He 
says  t'  em  :  "  I've  been  so  busy  showin'  de  Fair  t' 
me  friend,  Sir  Chames,  I  ain't  had  no  time. ' 

"  Say,  when  he  says  dat  'Sir  Chames, '  dose  mugs 
near  had  a  fit. 

"Den  Mr.  Paul  says,  'Let  me  present  you  t'  Sir 
Chames  Fadden  McFadden  of  Castle  Fadden  Mc- 
Fadden,  County  Galway.' 

"  Den  he  gave  dem  bote  a  knockdown  t'  me  by 
dere  names,  and  dey  scraped  and  bowed  and 
guffed,  and  I  only  said  'aw, 'see?  Like  dat;  'aw,' 
cause  I  wanted  a  minute  t'  tink,  and  I  taut. 
Pretty  soon  I  seed  de  tip  was  dat  word  'Galway,' 
what's  de  name  dey  call  de  kind  of  whiskers  de 
Irish  likes,  so  I  knowed  I  was  to  be  Irish. 

"  Den  bote  of  de  mugs  ordered  champagne,  and 
bote  asked  me  t'  ride  t'  town  wid  em  in  dere  carts, 
what  was  outside,  and  bote  was  'Sir  Chamesing' 
me  t'  onct,  like  dey  was  dinky  parrots,  till  Mr. 
Paul  says:  'Sir  Chames  was  just  tellin'  me  he 
'spected  his  3Toung  and  beautiful  cousin,  Lad}T  Clare 


SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M'FADDEN.  123 

O'Gabblin',  t'  arrive  t'morrow,  and  was  won- 
d'ring  who  he'd  get  t'  look  after  her,  as  we  leaves 
in  a  few  days.  I  understood  you,'  says  Mr.  Paul, 
lookin'  hard  at  me,  't'  say  dat  Lady  Clare  had  just 
come  into  her  fortune,'  says  he.  'Is  it  large?' 

"Den  I  says:  'It's  up  t'  de  limit,'  says  I,  'and 
near  outter  sight.' 

"  Mr.  Paul  laughed  like  he'd  have  a  fit,  and 
says:  'Me  friend,  Sir  Chames,  is  stmtyin'  Ameri 
can  slang,  and  he  uses  it  all  de  time  when  he  tinks 
of  it.' 

"  Den  dose  dudes  dey  laughed  too,  and  kept  say- 
in'  'Bah  Jove,'  and  'I  say,  you  know,'  and  tellin' 
how  dey'd  be  tickled  t'  deat  t'  look  after  Lady 
Clare.  By  dat  time  I'd  kinder  tumbled  t'  Mr. 
Paul's  game,  and  I  says  t'  'em,  says  I,  speakin'  like 
de  Irish  char'cter  on  top  of  de  stage:  'Paul,  me 
bye,  wud  ut  be  de  fair  ting  t'  lave  a  young  and 
lovely  gurrul  loike  Lady  Clare,  wid  only  dese 
handsome  young  bucks  t'  look  afther  her?  Shure, ' 
says  I,  seein'  Mr.  Paul  couldn't  say  nothin',  for  he 
had  one  glove  shoved  in  his  mout,  'shure,  it  was 
yezself  oi  was  wishin'  Lady  Clare  t'  fall  in  love 
wid,  and  besthow  her  millions  on ;  but  if  dese  young 
devils  are  frinds  on  yours,  dey  may  take  dere 
chance  in  de  runnin'.' 

"Say,  dose  two  dudes  was  squirmin',  an'  dere 


124  SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M' FADDEN. 

eyes  was  poppin'  outter  dere  heads  when  I  gave 
dem  dat  game,  and  Mr.  Paul  nearly  bursted  his- 
self  keepin'  his  face  straight. 

"'lean  answer  for  dese  gentlemen,'  says  Mr, 
Paul,  after  he'd  trun  tree  glasses  down  his  troat. 
'I  can  answer  for  dem,  for  bote  have  visited  New 
York  several  times. ' 

'"In  dat  case,  den,'  says  I,  gettin'  up  t'  go,  tor 
de  game  was  gettin'  pretty  hard  for  me  t'  play, 
and  I  didn't  want  to  spoil  it,  'in  dat  case  I'll 
make  a  date  wid  de  gents  and  put  me  cousin, 
Lady  Clare,  in  dere  charge.  I  has  t'  go  t'  de 
Oirish  village  now  t'  meet  me  aunt,  de  Duchess 
McFadden-Fadden,  who  laves  for  Galway  t'-mor- 
row.' 

"  Mr.  Paul  tumbled,  and  he  got  up  too,  and  we 
shook  hands  wid  de  mugs  who  promised  t'  send 
me  cards  t'  dero  clubs,  and  den  we  chased  our 
selves  out. 

'"I  shall  only  regret  dis,'  says  Mr.  Paul,  'if 
dose  boys  dies  of  excitement,  which  I'm  afeerd 
dey'lldo.' 

''  Den  we  went  into  a  lot  of  dose  joints  on  de 
Midway,  where  all  kinds  of  dagoes,  and  coons  from 
Africa  and  everywhere  plays  de  dinkiest  bands 
you  ever  seed,  and  dances  wid  der  bodies  'stid  of 
dere  legs.  Say,  de  funniest  ting  'bout  dem  womin 


SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M'FADDEN.        125 

what  dances  is  dat,  'stid  of  dressin'  short  from 
dere  feet  up,  dey  dresses  short  from  dere  necks 
down.  Mr.  Paul  said  he  guessed  it  was  because 
womin  de  world  over  undresses  de  part  of  dere 
bodies  dey  dances  wid.  See? 

"  Well,  after  we'd  done  most  of  de  odder  joints 
we  went  t'  de  one  dey  calls  de  Streets  of  Cairo. 
'Chames,'  said  Mr.  Paul,  'Chames,  de  motion  of 
de  camel  settles  your  dinner,  or  else  it  leaves  you 
widout  no  dinner  t'  settle.  Let  us  trust  t'  fate  an' 
take  a  ride.' 

"  So  we  went  down  t'  de  end  of  de  street  where 
dere  was  some  camels  kneeling  on  carpets  like  dey 
wanted  t'  put  dere  heads  under  somethin'  an' 
take  a  snooze,  and  I  gives  the  boss  dago,  what 
had  flour  sacks  on  his  legs  and  a  salt  bag  on  his 
head,  fifty  cents  for  de  two  of  us,  and  den  de 
odder  dagoes  what  was  goin'  t'  drive  our  camels 
made  dere  bluffs  for  a  nickel  apiece.  'What- 
t'ell,'  I  says,  'yuse  gets  your  nickel  if  you  brings 
us  back  safe,'  and  dey  grinned  and  says,  'All 
right,  master,'  and  told  us  to  climb  up  on 
de  backs  of  de  crazy  beasts  what  was  kneeling 
for  us. 

"Murder!  Holy  gee!  de  next  ting  you  know 
you  was  fired  front  like  you'd  taken  a  jump 
from  de  Brooklyn  Bridge,  and  den  you  was 


126  SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M'FADDEN. 

jerked  back  like  a  big  cop  had  you  by  de  collar, 
and  den  you  was  slung  sideways  and  bumped  up 
and  down  'till  de  bret  was  near  bounced  outer 
you,  and  dat  was  only  de  camel  gettin'  up  on  his 
loony  legs.  When  he  was  all  up,  I  felt  like  I  was 
on  top  of  a  mountain  what  was  chasin'  itself 
'cross  de  ocean. 

"  'Are  yuse  all  dere,  Chames?'  yelled  Mr.  Paul 
from  anodder  mountain.  I  told  him  I  was  all  on 
deck,  and  away  we  went  bobbin'  down  de  street, 
wid  de  drivers  jabberin'  dere  lingo  chasin'  along 
side. 

"Say,  what  de  tink  happened?  I'm  givin'  it  t' 
you  straight.  We  was  just  passin'  by  de  tee-a- 
ter  when  I  near  fell  off  me  perch,  cause  dere,  rid- 
in'  along  on  two  donkeys,  was  de  Duchess  and  his 
Whiskers.  He  didn't  see  me,  but  de  Duchess 
did,  and  she  turned  as  white  as  de  'lectric  light 
over  her  head.  She  gave  me  a  look  what  I 
was  dead  on  to:  dat  I  wasn't  to  say  nottin', 
but  see  her  when  we  got  back  t'  de  end  of  de 
ride. 

"Say,  it  kinder  knocked  me  silly,  and  I  didn't 
see  nottin'  much  till  we  got  off  de  camels,  and  den 
I  looked  'round  and  saw  de  Duchess  hidin'  and 
waitin'  for  me  inside  de  door  of  a  kinder  church 
what  dat  kind  of  dagoes  calls  a  mosque.  I  made 


SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M'FADDEN.  12? 

a  sneak  from  Mr.  Paul  like  I  spose  de  Duchess  had 
from  his  Whiskers,  and  I  went  up  t'  her  and  called 
her  down.  'What  fell!'  I  says  t'  her.  'What 
fell,'  like  dat,  see? 

"  She  was  pretty  white  'round  de  gills,  but  she 
just  laughed  and  said  it  was  a  little  joke  she'd 
played  on  me.  She  said  she  knowed  where  I  was 
goin',  and  she  chased  along  after  me  just  t'  get 
de  laugh  on  me,  and  had  met  his  Whiskers  dere  ~by 
accident. 

"Say,  dat  was  mighty  good  t'  hear,'  'cause  of 
course  'till  she  told  me  I  didn't  know  what  fell. 
See? 

"So  I  says  if  dat's  all  I'd  call  Mr.  Paul  and 
'sense  myself  and  take  her  home. 

"Den  she  said  no;  dat  she  didn't  want  Mr. 
Paul  t'  know,  'cause  he  was  such  a  stringer  he 
might  pretend  not  t'  believe  her;  he  might  let  on 
he  taut  she'd  come  out  wid  his  Whiskers,  an'  dat 
would  break  her  heart.  She  began  cryin'  den,  and 
asks  me  did  I  want  t'  break  her  heart. 

"  Dat  knocked  me  clean  silly,  'cause  I  am  stuck 
on  de  Duchess,  sure.  Den  she  jollies  me  up  to 
make  a  sneak  out  of  dere  wid  Mr.  Paul  before 
he  saw  her  or  his  Whiskers,  and  told  me  not 
to  sa}*  nottin'  about  it,  'cause  Miss  Fannie  might 
hear. 


128  SIR  JAMES  FADDEN  M' FADDEN. 

"Course  I  know  de  Duchess  wasn't  stringing 
me  nor  givin'  me  no  game,  but  it  hurted  me  all 
de  same  'cause  she  was  so  sore  'bout  anybody  get- 
tin'  on  t'  her  little  joke. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  because  nobody  knows  how 
square  de  Duchess  is  'cept  me." 


THE  GOOD  OFFICES  OF  MR.  PAUL. 


"  O AY,  I'm  tickled  near  t'  deaf  t'  get  back  t' 
New  York.  Sure.  Chicago's  too  far  from 
de  Bow'ry  t'  suit  Chimmie  Fadden. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  'bout  me  luck  at  de  races  in 
Chicago,  did  I?  Say,  I  hit  'em  hard,  an'  de  best 
part  of  de  game  was  I  done  de  Duchess  outer 
most  of  de  boodle,  only  I  didn't  hold  on  t'  it  long. 

"  I  was  tellin'  you  'bout  Mr.  Paul,  what  I  went 
out  t'  de  Midway  wid  de  night  he  gave  me  de 
knock-down  t'  de  dudes  what  he  give  de  song  an' 
dance  to  'bout  me  bein'  Sir  Chames.  Well,  after 
de  picnic  we  had  dat  night,  me  payin'  de  boodle 
outter  his  sack,  he  told  me  t'  keep  de  change,  an' 
say,  dere  was  more  dan  five  plunks. 

"Say,  dat  made  me  feel  bad — I  don't  tink.  I 
was  just  needin'  five  plunks  in  me  business.  See? 
I'd  been  out  t'  de  race  track,  where  I  knowed  near 
all  de  kids  'round  de  stables,  'cause  dey  all  comes 
from  de  Coney  Island  tracks,  where  I  guess  dey  is 
borned,  an'  I  was  jollyin'  'em  for  tips  on  a  winner. 

"  Say,  de  you  know  how  t'  git  straight  tips  from 
de  stable  kid?  It's  dead  eas}T.  You  listens  t'  all 
dey  has  t'  say,  an'  you  listens  an'  listens,  an'  den 
you  look  at  de  entrees,  and  if  dere  is  one  starter 


132        THE  GOOD  OFFICES  OF  MR.   PAUL. 

you  never  got  no  tip  on,  dat's  de  horse  yuse  play. 
Sure. 

"  Well,  I  found  a  horse — he  was  a  ringer  on  me 
— dat  not  a  kid  had  tipped,  an'  he  was  ten  t'  one 
agin,  an'  I  give  Mr.  Paul  me  system  an'  he  played 
him  for  fifty  cases,  an'  I  played  him  for  five,  an' 
I'm  a,  farmer  if  he  didn't  win  in  a  walk.  Say, 
when  he  win  de  Duchess  she  collared  me  an' 
hollars  for  ten.  I  near  fell  in  a  fit  when  I  got  on 
dat  she  taut  all  hets  was  even  money,  an'  she  taut 
I  only  had  ten  plunks.  So  I  digs  up  de  ten,  an' 
dat  leaves  me  forty-five  what  de  Duchess  didn't 
know  I  had,  an'  I  sunk  it  in  me  jeans,  feelin'  like 
I  owned  de  cart  an'  had  a  mortgage  on  Chicago 
besides. 

"I  was  wonderin'  how  I'd  blow  in  de  boodle 
when  I  got  back  t'  New  York,  not  wantin'  t'  be 
such  a  farmer  as  t'  waste  it  in  Chicago.  I  didn't 
mean  t'  give  de  Duchess  a  sight  of  de  plunks  if 
she  went  blind  for  it,  cause  I  was  kinder  sore 
'bout  her  bein'  on  de  Midway  Pleasants  wid  his 
Whiskers  dat  night  I  was  tellin'  you  'bout. 

"  I  knowed  it  was  all  right,  but  it's  dis  way  wid 
womin :  If  you  don't  row  wid  'em  sometimes, 
wedder  dey  is  right  or  wrong,  dey  gets  gay  and 
puts  you  up  for  a  farmer,  an'  dere- ain't  nottiii' 
womin  hates  more  dan  a  farmer. 


THE  GOOD  OFFICES  OF  ME.    PAUL.        133 

"  I  was  tinkin'  dat  way  after  we  came  home  from 
de  races,  when  'is  Whiskers,  an'  Miss  Fannie,  an' 
Mr.  Burton,  what's  Miss  Fannie's  husband,  was 
sittin'  on  a  kinder  dinkey  stoop,  what  dey  calls  a 
balcon}-,  in  front  of  der  parlor  in  de  hotel,  where 
dey  could  see  out  on  de  lake,  what's  de  only  pretty 
ting  in  Chicago,  an'  dat  ain't  in  it,  neider.  Well, 
as  dey  was  sittin'  dere  Mr.  Paul,  dat  small  bottle 
mug,  he  comes  to  me,  an'  he  says,  says  he,  usin' 
dem  dude  words  what  he's  a  wonder  at,  he  says: 
'Chames,  if  de  Duchess  can  spare  you,'  says  he, 
for  me  and  de  Duchess  was  sittin'  in  a  back  room, 
where  I  was  learning  her  craps,  only  she  don't 
pay  when  she  loses,  he  says,  'if  de  Duchess  can 
spare  you,  I  tink  wid  your  'sistance  I  could  be 
induced  to  concoc'  a  champagne  cup  to  overcome 
de  fatigue  of  de  day,  an'  de  sorrow  at  seein'  a  man 
so  much  in  love  as  Burton  is  wid  Miss  Fannie.' 

"  Say,  I'm  gettin'  stuck  on  meself  for  de  slick 
way  I  can  say  dose  dude  langwudge  de  same  as 
him,  widout  a  miss.  He's  a  corker,  sure,  dat 
mug. 

"  So  I  chases  meself  downstairs  an'  fetches  back 
de  wine  an"  de  ice,  an'  all  de  stuff  what  he  puts 
in  his  cups.  Den  me  an'  him  goes  t'  a  table  back 
of  de  window,  where  'is  Whiskers  an'  Miss  Fannie 
an'  Mr.  Burton  was  sittin'  outside  of  it,  an'  we 


134        THE  GOOD   OFFICES   OF  MR.    PAUL. 

begins  t'  mix  de  drinks  in  a  big  growler  made 
out  of  red  glass=  Mr.  Paul  was  jawin'  away 
kinder  t'  himself  an'  kinder  t'  me,  like  he  does 
when  he's  mixin'  drinks,  which  he  mostly  is,  an' 
I  was  openin'  bottles  for  him.  'Chames,'  he  was 
saying,  'Chames,  it  is  unbecomin'  in  a  poor 
weak  sinner  like  me  t'  find  fault  where  heaven 
ordains,'  dern's  his  very  words,  not  meaning 
nothin' ;  'but  when  I  sees  as  good  a  drinker  as  Mr. 
Burton  onct  was  preferin'  t'  sit  in  de  moonlight 
wid  his  own  wife,  an'  leavin'  t'  his  guests  de  labor 
of  mixin'  a  cup  which  is  t'  be  looked  upon  because 
it  ain't  red,  den  I  can't  help  tinkin'  dat  college 
education  is  a  failure,  an'  tings  is  not  what  dey  is 
cracked  up  to  be,  barrin'  dis  ice,  which  yuse  has 
cracked  in  a  way  t'  do  credit  t'  my  traininV 

"Dat's  de  way  he  was  jawin'  along  when  I 
happened  t'  hear  his  Whiskers  say  de  Duchess's 
name  which  dey  calls  Hortons,  only  dat  ain't  de 
way  what  it's  spelled.  1  made  a  bluff  at  listenin' 
t'  Mr.  Paul,  an'  he  made  a  bluff  at  talkin',  but  I 
knowed  we  was  bote  listenin'  t'  his  Whiskers. 

"  Say,  what  deye  tink  he  was  sayin'?  He  went 
on,  his  Whiskers  did,  an'  told  Miss  Fannie  an'  Mr. 
Burton  'bout  bein'  on  de  Midwa}-,  an'  meetin'  do 
Duchess  dere  when  she  was  chasing  after  me,  an' 
givin'  her  a  ride  on  de  camels,  an'  everyting. 


THE  GOOD  OFFICES  OF  MR.   PAUL.         135 

"When  he  got  tru'  an'  dey  was  laughin'  out  on 
de  balcony,  Mr.  Paul  motions  me  t'  de  back  of  do 
room,  an'  he  says  t'  me,  he  says,  'Chames,  me  an' 
you  is  two  cads,'  he  says. 

"'What  fell?'  I  says,  not  bein'  on;  'what  fell?' 
like  dat. 

"Den  he  goes  on:  'Wese  is  two  cads,  'cause 
wese  been  listenin'  t'  people  what  didn't  know 
wese  was  dore.  But  my  forgiveness  give  an' 
take.  I'm  glad  dis  has  happened,  'cause  I  saw  dat 
little  proceedin'  on  de  Midway,  dough  I  never  let 
on  t'  you  dat  I  did.' 

"  Den  he  taut  a  minute,  an'  den  he  went  on  in 
my  straight  American,  which  he  talks  as  well  as 
any  mug  on  de  Bow'ry. 

"'Chimmie, '  says  he,  'dat  squares  de  Duchess. 
His  Whiskers  is  a  real  gent,  not  because  he  dresses 
dude,  but  because  he  was  borned  so.  Bein'  a  gent 
doesn't  bar  him  from  bein'  gay,  but  it  does  bar 
him  from  ever  givin'  Miss  Fannie  any  song  an' 
dance.  Are  you  on?' 

"  I  told  him  I  was  near  bein'  on,  but  not  quite. 
Den  he  says,  'Chimmie,  you'll  have  to  take  my 
word  for  dis,  dat  his  Whiskers  would  drop  dead 
before  he'd  ever  open  his  mout  t'  Miss  Fannie 
'bout  de  odder  night  'less  it  was  just  as  he  told  it. 
If  it  wasn't  straight,  he'd  kept  his  jaw  shut.  Dat 


136        THE  GOOD  OFFICES  OF  MR.   PAUL. 

settles  it,  and  I'm  near  as  tickled  as  you  are,  now 
dat  yuse  is  on.' 

"I  guess  he  tumbled  dat  I  was  on,  an'  say!  I 
was  feelin'  pretty  good.  Sure. 

"Den  he  runs  t'  de  window  an'  says:  'Miss 
Fannie,'  he  says,  sober  as  a  judge  in  de  Tombs 
an'  givin'  me  de  wink,'  'Miss  Fannie,  which 
would  you  radder  do:  have  me  served  at  a  funeral 
as  a  victim  of  a  first,  or  have  Chames  serve  some 
champagne  cup?' 

"Deri  I  heard  Miss  Fannie  laugh,  an'  she  came 
in  de  room  an'  says  dat  if  Mr.  Paul  had  been 
makin'  any  of  dose  rotten — no,  dreadful,  dat's  de 
word — dreadful  drinks,  I  could  chase  meself  out 
wid  'em  t'  de  mugs  on  de  balcony. 

"  So  I  chases  meself. 

"  Dat  night  I  could't  help  tellin'  de  whole  racket, 
from  de  start  t'  de  finish,  t'  de  Duchess,  an'  when 
I  said  how  I  knowed  it  was  all  right  she  began 
cryin'  so  hard  dat  I  didn't  know  what  fell,  'cept  f 
give  her  de  forty-five  plunks  I'd  held  out  on  her. 

"  Dat' s  de  worse  ting  'bout  womin.  When  you 
tells  'em  somef  ing  what  squares  every  f  ing,  den 
dey  goes  an'  has  a  fit,  an'  you  has  f  give  up  de 
last  plunk  f  cure  'em." 


SATAN  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL 


'*  QAY,  it's  a  long  time  I  don't  see  you,  sure. 
Well,  wese  has  all  been  off  on  Mr.  Paul's 
yacht.  Yes,  de  whole  gang;  Miss  Fannie  and 
her  felly  what's  her  husband;  Mr.  Paul,  de  small 
bottle  mug,  de  Duchess,  me,  an'  his  Whiskers. 

"  Dat  ain't  de  kind  of  a  game  I  likes,  dat  yacht 
ing.  I  likes  a  game  where  yuse  has  more  t'  do 
dan  t'  whistle  for  a  breeze  when  you  ain't  got 
none,  and  wish  yuse  hadn't  so  much  when  yuse 
has. 

"  Dere  was  lots  of  fun  at  night,  dough,  after  we 
had  come  t'  anchor  and  de  wimin  had  gone  t'  bed, 
and  Mr.  Paul  and  me  was  sittin'  out  on  deck 
a-lookin'  over  de  water,  what  was  all  black  wid  de 
dark  and  silver  wid  de  moon,  and  dere  wasn't  no 
sounds  'cept  de  pop  of  de  corks  when  I'd  open 
anodder  small  bottle  fer  him  what  he'd  always 
make  me  drink  half  of. 

"  'Chimmie,'  he  says  to  me  one  night,  'Chim- 
mie, '  says  he,  'did  you  ever  have  a  light  in  a  crowd 
when  de  whole  gang  was  agin  you?" 

"Say,  I  taut  he  was  stringin'  me,  'cause  what 
fell !  Doesn't  every  mug  have  t'  sci'ap  wid  a  gang 

some  time? 

139 


140  SATAN  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL. 

"  'Sure!'  I  says  to  him;  'sure  I  has  scrapped 
wid  a  gang  many's  de  time,  or  how  would  I  he 
livin'  now?'  says  I. 

"  Den  he  didn't  say  nottin'  fer  a  long  time  'till 
I  taut  he  must  be  asleep,  but  after  a  while  he  says, 
speakin'  kinder  low,  'cause  everyting  was  so  still. 
wid  only  de  anchor  watch  on  deck  for'd,  and  do 
little  waves  kinder  singin'  a  soft  "Htlesong  'gainst 
de  side  of  de  boat,  says  he:  'Dj  whole  gang  is 
'gainst  me,  Chimmie,  and  I  can't  fight.' 

"Say,  I  was  kinder  paralyzed  at  him  sayin'  dat, 
for  I  wasn't  on  t'  de  game  a  little  bit.  Dere 
wasn't  110  scrappin'  goin'  on  round  dere  what  I'd 
seen,  but  when  I  got  tinkin'  'bout  it  somehow  I 
couldn't  help  tinkin'  of  Miss  Fannie,  'cause — well, 
I  don't  know  just  what  made  me  tink  of  her,  only 
dat  Mr.  Paul  always  acted  like  he  wished  he  wasn't 
near  her,  and  all  de  same  he  couldn't  stay  no 
where  else  but  hangin'  right  round  where  she  was. 

"Say,  you  know  me,  and  how  I  likes  Miss 
Fannie  better  dan  me  own  life.  Well,  I  kept 
tinkin'  and  tinkin',  and  pretty  soon  I  says,  like 
I  hadn't  been  tinkin'  at  all,  says  I,  'A  good  scrap 
does  a  mug  a  lot  of  good  sometimes,'  says  I.  'It 
knocks  de  silly  nonsense  outter  him.  If  wese  was 
in  New  York  I  could  fix  a  nice  quiet  scrap  fer  us 
dat  might  settle  yer  mind,  Mr.  Paul,'  says  I. 


SATAN  FINDS  MISCHin.f  STILL.  141 

"  'For  us?'  says  he. 

"  'Sure,'  I  says.  'If  yer  out  for  a  scrap,  what's 
de  matter  wid  mo  havin'  some  of  de  fun  along  \vid 
you'?'  I  says. 

"  Well,  he  never  said  anodder  word  'till  de  next 
day,  when  he  astMr.  Burton  if  he  would  give  him 
de  loan  of  me  for  a  day  to  go  t'  New  York,  and 
Mr.  Burton  says,  sure. 

"  I  kinder  knowed  what  was  up,  so  I  says  nottin' 
when  Mr.  Paul  told  me  t'  come  along  wid  him, 
and  we  took  de  cars  at  Larchmount  fer  de  city.  I 
tumbled  t'  what  was  up,  and  after  we'd  had  some 
supper  I  just  chased  over  t'  do  east  side  wid  him, 
where  I  knowed  I'd  find  a  Avenue  A  gang  what 
would  radder  scrap  dan  work  de  goose — rush  de 
growler,  I  mean. 

"  Well,  we  never  got  dere.  On  de  way  we  came 
'cross  a  gang  of  for'ners,  ginneys  and  such,  what 
was  havin'  a  meetin'.  I  didn't  know  what  fell 
dey  was  kickin'  'bout,  'cause  dey  was  talkin'  in 
some  for'n  langwudge,  but  Mr.  Paul  he  stopped 
and  listened,  and  I  saw  him  gettin'  red,  and  den  he 
got  white,  and  den  I  saw  de  fight  come  into  his  eyes. 

"  Say,  if  yuse  had  t'  knock  round  like  I  did 
when  you  was  a  kid  you'd  know  dat  look  in  a 
mug's  eye  soon  as  you'd  see  it — de  look  dat  means 
fight. 


142          SATAN  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL. 

"  So  I  presses  up  close  t'  him,  not  know  in'  what 
we  was  goin'  to  scrap  'bout,  only  knowin'  dat  we 
was  t'  scrap,  what's  enough;  and  Mr.  Paul  says  t' 
me,  very  quiet,  he  says:  'Dese  fellers  is  sayiu' 
some  tings  what  ain't  nice  'bout  our  flag, 
Chimmie,'  says  he;  and  we  crowded  up  closer  to 
de  mug  what  was  shootin'  off  his  mout. 

"Mr.  Paul  listens  some  more,  and  pretty  soon 
he  gives  me  arm  a  grip  like  a  cable  car  and  says, 
'If  he  does  I'll  punch  his  head.' 

"  I  didn't  know  what  fell,  'cause  of  de  lang- 
wudge,  but  I  see  de  mug  what  was  speakin' 
take  a  'Merican  flag  and  hold  it  in  front  of 
him. 

"  Den  Mr.  Paul  yelled  out  sometin'  in  some 
dago  langwudge  what  I  didn't  know7  den,  but 
know  now,  was  f  warn  de  man  wid  de  flag  not  to 
spit  on  it,  which  was  de  bluff  he'd  made. 

"Say,  I  was  stuck  on  me  company  den.  Mr. 
Paul  had  frown  off  his  hat,  and  de  light  of  a 
lantern  on  de  stand  \vas  shinin'  on  his  face,  which 
was  de  deadest  game  face  I  ever  seed. 

"  De  minnit  he  chipped  in  dere  was  a  howl  of 
'Police!  Reporter!  Detective!  Lynch  him!'  and 
de  gang  piled  fer  us. 

"  'Take  yer  hat  off  f  dat  flag!'  yelled  Mr.  Paul, 
and  soon  as  he  talked  'Merican  and  I  know'd  de 


SATAN  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL.  143 

game  I  yelled  de  same.  'Take  yer  dicer  off  t'  de 
flag!'  I  yelled. 

"  I  had  de  scrappin'  fit  on  me  bad  as  Mr.  Paul 
den,  'cause  Tm  stuck  on  dat  flag  meself,  dough 
I  don't  know  why. 

"  De  mug  on  de  stand  went  silly  and  spit  on  de 
flag,  and  at  dat  very  second  Mr.  Paul  grabbed  him 
by  de  leg  and  pulled  him  over.  As  he  came 
toward  us  Mr.  Paul  let  him  have  a  lovely  right 
on  de  jaw,  and  he  went  t'  sleep. 

"Say,  den  dere  was  a  picnic.  De  gang  jumped 
on  us.  Mr.  Paul  and  me  got  our  backs  t'  de 
stand,  and  I  never  had  so  much  fun  since  I  was 
borned.  It  was  biff,  bang,  whack!  and  bang 
agin. 

"Mr.  Paul  was  workin'  like  a  engine,  just  as 
cool  as  a  small  bottle,  and  sayin'  in  a  easy  voice, 
like  he  was  in  a  parlor :  '  Keep  yer  head,  Chimmie ! 
Mind  yer  eye,  Chimime!  Da,t  was  a  good  one, 
Chimmie!  Land  on  de  jaw,  Chiramie!'  All  de 
time  he  was  sluggm'  away,  takin'  a  crack  now 
and  den,  but  mostly  givin'  dem,  and  it  was  just 
lovely. 

"  De  forn  mugs  wasn't  in  it  a  little  bit  wid  dere 
fists,  and  we  was  gettin'  in  cree  or  four  good  licks 
to  dere  one  when  one  of  de  gang  pulled  off  a  piece 
of  scantlin'  from  de  stand  and  aimed  a  whack  at 


144          SATAN  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL. 

Mr.  Paul.  I  jumped  in  between  and  took  it 
mostly  on  de  shoulders,  but  somo  on  me  nut,  too, 
just  over  me  ear. 

"  I  was  silly  for  a  minute,  but  Mr.  Paul  chucked 
me  behind  him  until  I  got  me  breat,  and  just  when 
I  was  back  in  de  fun  agin  de  cops  came,  and  de 
gang  skipped. 

"  Say,  de  Sergeant  looked  at  me,  den  he  looked 
at  Mr.  Paul,  den  he  looked  at  me  agin,  'cause  he 
knowed  me,  and  den  he  said,  'Well,  I'll  be 
damned !' 

"Den  he  says,  kinder  laughin',  'Had  a  nice 
time?' 

"  'Very  pleasant,  tank  you,'  says  Mr.  Paul, 
wipin'  de  blood  from  his  face.  'I  feels  much 
relieved.' 

u  'Sorry  we  didn't  pinch  any  of  dem,'  says  de 
Sergeant. 

"'I've  got  one  of  dem,'  says  Mr.  Paul,  and,  sure 
enough,  on  de  ground  was  de  mug  what  had  spit 
on  de  flag. 

"  'Oh,  I  know  him  :  we're  lookin'  fer  him,'  says 
de  Sergeant,  when  he  brought  a  lantern  in  front  of 
de  mug's  face. 

"  When  de  Sergeant  started  t'  put  de  bracelets 
on  de  mug,  Mr.  Paul  says :  '  'Scuse  me,  Sergeant. 
Dere  is  sometiu'  I  want  dis  gent  t'  carry.'  Den 


SAT Atf  FINDS  MISCHIEF  STILL.  145 

he  picked  up  de  flag  and  made  do  mug  carry  it 
over  his  head,  wid  his  hat  off  in  de  odder  hand, 
all  de  way  t'  de  police  station. 

"  De  cops  was  near  dyin'  wid  laughin'  as  we 
marched  along,  Mr.  Paul  lecturin'  de  mug  wid  de 
flag  on  what  he  called  de  'evil  of  his  ways.' 

"At  de  station  dey  let  us  wash  up,  and  den  Mr. 
Paul  ast  de  Captain  and  de  Sergeant  out  t'  join 
him  in  a  small  bottle. 

"  'If  ever  you  want  a  job,  just  apply  for  a  place  on 
de  force,'  says  de  Captain  when  we  left  him. 

"  We  went  back  t'  de  yacht  de  next  day,  and 
just  before  we  went  aboard,  Mr.  Paul  says: 
'Chimmie,  I  feel  much  better.  I'll  do  as  much 
for  you  some  day. ' 

"  Dat  night  I  tole  de  Duchess  de  whole  game, 
and  after  she'd  put  a  piece  of  raw  beef  over  me  eye 
she  says : 

"  'Cheemes,  I'm  more  in  love  wid  you  dan  ever.' 

"  Why  she  should  be  more  stuck  on  me  wid  a 
black  eye  dan  wid  a  blue  I  don't  tumble.  See?" 


A  CHAPPIE,  THE  DUCHESS,  AND 
CHIMMIE. 


"QAY,  I'm  dead  sore  on  dis  yacht  racin',  and  I 

wisht  I  never  was  horned  if  wese  has  t'  go 

crazy  every  time  a  mug  comes  chasm'  hisself  from 

forn  parts  makin'  a  sneak  after  dat  dinky  old  cup. 

"Sport?  Sure.  It  was  sport  if  wese  only  knowed 
what  wese  was  sportin'  'bout;  but  what  wid  Miss 
Fannie  wantin'  dat  lord  chap  t'  win,  'cause  she 
said  his  daughters  would  feel  so  bad  if  dere  daddy 
didn't  win;  what  wid  his  Whiskers  wantin'  de 
Vigilant  t'  win  'cause  he  had  boodle  up  on  de 
race;  what  wid  Mr.  Burton  not  knowin'  what  he 
wanted,  'cause  he  didn't  like  de  rules  of  de  game; 
what  wid  Mr.  Paul  always  near  drownin'  every 
body  wid  small  bots,  no  matter  which  jTacht  was 
ahead,  and  what  wid  de  Duchess  plumb  ravin' 
silly  t'  have  de  lord  chap  lose,  'cause  a  mug  named 
Nimpoleung  was  slugged  onct  by  de  Queen  of 
England,  1  didn't  know  what  fell,  and  just  said, 
'Aye,  aye,  sir!'  and  gives  a  hitch  t'  me  pants, 
when  Mr.  Paul  would  say,  'Chames,  what's  de 
matter  wid  a  small  bot?' 

"Nobody  wasn't  never  so  queered  like  I  wus  all 
de  time  dose  races  was  on,  for  I  wanted  de  boat  t' 

win  dat  Miss  Fannie  was  pullin'  for,  and  all  de 

149 


150       CHAPPIE,    DUCHESS,    AND  CHIMMIE. 

same  I  didn't  have  de  nerve  t'  open  me  mout  and 
say  so  for  fear  de  Duchess  would  jump  on  me  neck 
wid  her  song  and  dance  'bout  dat  mug  Nimpoleung. 

"Why  didn't  dat  lord  chap  dig  up  de  plunks 
and  buy  a  silver  cup  if  he  was  so  dead  stuck  on 
havin'  one,  and  not  come  chasm'  'round  here  bod- 
derin'  me  wid  having  to  learn  all  de  French  his 
tory  dere  ever  was  so's  not  t'  get  in  a  row  wid  de 
Duchess  'bout  dat  Nimpoleung?  If  ever  I  lays 
eyes  on  dat  French  dude,  I'll  give  him  a  worse 
turn  pin'  dan  de  Queen  did,  or  me  name's  not  Chim- 
mie  Fadden. 

"But  I  was  going'  t'  tell  yuse  'bout  our  trip  out 
t'  de  races.  Say,  dey  was  great  graft,  anyhow, 
even  if  I  was  near  crazy  wid  all  de  learnin'  I  had 
t'  take  aboard. 

"Are  yuse  on  t'  dat,  take  aboard?  Dat's  sailor 
talk.  And  I  was  so  struck  over  dat  talk  dat  1 
paralyzed  Mr.  Paul  onct  by  astin'  him  did  he  want 
some  grog  when  he  tells  me  t'  open  a  small  bottle. 
Sure. 

"Well,  wese  all  went  out  on  Mr.  Paul's  yacht, 
and  de  whole  gang  wored  yachtin'  caps  'cept  me. 
I  wored  a  stiff  dicer  so's  I  wouldn't  be  mistook 
for  one  of  de  little  dudes  Mr.  Paul  ast  t'  come 
'long.  Miss  Fannie  she  wored  one  of  dose  caps 
and  a  little  jacket  buttoned  up  t'  her  chin,  and 


CHAPPIE,   DUCHESS,   AND  CHIMM1E.       151 

when  de  wind  was  blowin'  her  hair  'round  her 
eyes  and  her  cheeks  was  all  red  she  was  lookin'  up 
t' de  limit.  Dat's  right!  De  Duchess  she  wored 
a  cap,  too,  but  she  was  always  down  in  the  cabin, 
'cause  de  wind  made  freckles  on  her  nose,  and  dat 
makes  her  crazy. 

"Say,  nobody  what  ain't  in  our  house  much 
never  knows  who  de  Duchess  is,  and  dey  mostly 
tinks  she's  some  swell  'long  wid  de  style  she  puts 
on.  Well,  I  was  tellin'  you  'bout  de  little  dudes 
Mr.  Paul  had  out  wid  us  one  day.  One  of  dem 
couldn't  stand  bein'  on  deck  no  more  dan  de 
Duchess,  so  he  chases  hisself  down  into  de  cabin, 
and  dere  was  de  Duchess  readin'  outer  a  book  what 
was  printed  in  French.  I  was  chasin'  down  in  de 
cabin  pretty  often  meself  after  small  bots,  an' 
each  time  I  went  down  de  dude  was  gettin'  on 
smooder  and  smooder  with  the  Duchess,  till  I 
began  tinkin'  t'  meself  what  fell,  I  began  f 
tink. 

"But  de  Duchess,  she  gave  me  a  wink  not  f 
give  her  away;  so  I  just  opened  bots  and  said 
nottin'  for  a  while.  Dat  was  all  right  till  onct  I 
was  down  dere  and  de  little  dude  says  f  me,  says 
he:  'Me  man,'  he  says,  'me  man,  I'll  trouble  you 
for  a  glass  of  wine, '  says  he. 

"  I  let   on  I  didn't  hear  him,  and  was  yellin' 


152      CHAPPIE,    DUCHESS,    AND  CHIMM1E. 

'Aye,  aye,  sir,'  t'  Mr.  Paul  and  givin'  me  pants  a 
hitch,  when  <le  Duchess  broke  me  all  up. 

"  Say,  what  de  you  tink  dat  girl  had  de  nerve  t' 
say?  I  almost  fell  in  a  fit  when  I  heard  her.  She 
looks  over  at  me  like  I  was  a  mile  away,  and  she 
says,  mind  yon,  de  Duchess  says,  and  to  me, 
'Toot  sweet,  me  man,  toot  sweet!  serve  de  gent  a 
glass  of  wine.' 

"  Say,  dat  settled  it.  I  just  turns  and  I  says  t' 
her,  says  I:  'Cert'nly,  me  dear  Hortense, '  I 
says,  chuckin'  her  under  de  chin — she  tried  t'  bite 
me  finger — 'Cert'nly,  me  dear.  I'll  give  de  gent 
a  glass  of  wine  while  you  chases  yourself  up  on 
deck.  Your  mistress  wants  you.' 

"  Say,  if  de  boat  had  struck  a  whale  dere  couldn't 
been  more  fun  in  de  cabin.  It  was  out  of  sight. 
De  Duchess  trun  her  book  at  me,  and  de  dude 
opened  his  mout  and  eyes  so  wide  I  taut  he'd 
never  shut  'em  again. 

"  De  Duchess  gives  me  a  glare,  and  says :  'You 
leetle  beast !'  But  I  only  gives  her  de  laugh.  Den 
when  de  dude  tumbled  t'  de  whole  game,  and  seen 
he'd  been  jollied  by  de  Duchess  into  tinkin'  she 
was  one  of  de  loidies  Miss  Fannie  had  along,  he 
dug  into  his  pants  and  fetched  up  a  fiver  and  gives 
it  to  me,  tellin'  me  not  t'  say  nottin'  'bout  it  t'  de 
odder  chaps. 


"  'CERT'NLY,  ME  DEAR  HORTENSE, '  i  SAYS,  CHUCKIN'  HER  UNDER  DE  CHIN." 

—Page  152. 


CHAPPIE,    DUCHESS,   AND  CHIMMIE.       153 

"  Well,  I  didn't.  I  only  told  Mr.  Paul,  and  he 
told  de  odder  chaps,  and  dey  near  guyed  de  life 
outter  dat  dude,  till  Miss  Fannie  heard  de  yarn 
and  made  dem  come  off,  so  as  not  t'  queer  de 
Duchess. 

'"  It  tickled  me  so  I  didn't  even  kick  when  de 
Duchess  made  me  yield  up  de  fiver  t'  square  me- 
self  wid  her." 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  COURT, 


,  v/ese  are  all  back  in  town  again,  sure. 
Dat's  funny,  ain't  it?  All  de  odder  high- 
toned  folkses  what  trots  in  our  class  is  just  getting 
a  move  on  t'  chase  dereselfs  outer  de  town  into 
de  country,  and  wese  chases  back  here. 

"  It  was  Miss  Fannie  what  chases  us  all  back 
here.  De  reason,  she  says,  was  dat  de  town  is 
now  more  beautifuller  dan  de  country.  But  I  says 
t'  de  Duchess  dat  de  country  would  be  all  right  if 
it  wasn't  so  far  from  de  Bow'iy. 

"  Dat's  de  trouble  wid  every  ting  what's  far  from 
de  Bow'ry :  it  ain't  near  it. 

"  Den  dere's  anodder  reason  :  little  Miss  Fannie 
is  t'  be  baptized.  Dat's  right.  She's  going  t' 
have  her  little  head  washed  by  a  felly  what  gives 
her  a  name,  and  Mr.  Paul  he's  going  t'  go  bail  dat 
she'll  always  be  a  good  girl,  and  say  her  prayers; 
dough  how  she'll  say  her  prayers  now  when  she 
can't  say  nottin'  is  too  much  for  me  to  get  onto. 
De  Duchess  says  I  can't  understand  'cause  no  par 
son  never  give  me  a  name;  but  when  I  lived  on  de 
Bow'ry  I  was  called  more  names  dan  would  do  t' 
fit  out  a  orphun  'sylum.  P'rhaps  dey  wasn't  de 

right  kind  of  names  t'  make  a  mug  say  his  pray- 
157 


158  CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  COURT. 

ers,  but  dey  was  good  enough  names  t'  start  a 
scrap  wid;  so  dey  done  me  no  harm. 

"De  parson  what's  going  t'  give  little  Miss 
Fannie  her  name  is  de  same  one  what  give  her 
mudder  her  first  name,  and  den  give  her  her  sec 
ond  name  when  she  married  Mr.  Burton.  Seeing 
he's  pretty  handy  at  de  game,  I  was  wondering  if 
he  couldn't  deal  me  out  one,  but  Mr.  Paul,  who 
heard  me  chinning  de  Duchess  'bout  it,  said  some- 
ting  about  'a  Fadden  by  any  odder  name  would 
swell  his  feet. ' 

"  Say,  I  taut  he  was  giving  me  de  jolly,  and  so 
I  says  t'  him,  says  I:  'What  fell,  Mr.  Paul?'  I 
says  like  dat,  see?  I  says,  'what  fell?'  says  I, 
'what  fell?'  See? 

"  Den  he  says,  looking  as  solemn  as  Recorder 
Smite,  says  he,  'Chames,'  he  says,  'Chames,  your 
eloquence  overcomes  me,'  using  dose  dude  lan- 
gwudge  what  de  Duchess  is  always  trying  f  learn 
me.  'If  I  could  say  two  words  and  make  dem 
mean  as  much  as  you  make  dose  words  mean,  I 
would  confine  me  conver,  conversa,  conversational 
—holy  gee,  dat  was  a  corker!  I'm  stuck  on 
meself  for  gettin'  a  fall  outter  dat  word.  He  says, 
'I  would  confine  me  con-ver-sa-tion-al  efforts  f 
just  two  words,  which  would  leave  me,'  says  he, 
wid  a  wink,  'which  would  leave  me  more  time  for 


CH1MM1E  FADDEN  IN  COURT.  159 

de  con-tem-pla-tion  of  de  beauties  of  a  small  cold 
bot.' 

"Dose  was  his  very  langwudge,  and  I  didn't 
wonder  dat  it  made  him  dry.  It's  made  me  dry 
telling1  of  it. 

"  T'anks,  I  don't  mind.  Here's  looking  at  you. 
We're  drinking  t'  little  Miss  Fannie. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Paul  being  dr}-, 
1  fetches  him  a  small  bottle,  and  den,  when  he  was 
feeling  better,  he  says  t'  me,  'Chames,'  he  says, 
'if  Mr.  Burton  could  spare  you  dis  afternoon,  I 
would  like  t'  have  you  pilot  me  dowrn  t'  de  court 
where  dey  is  trying  dat  murder  case,  'cause, '  says 
he,  '  'cause  I  was  reading  a  piece  in  de  poiper  dat 
one  of  de  doctor  chaps  what  was  on  de  witness- 
stand  was  testifying  dat  one  of  de  poisons  give  by 
de  chap  what  done  de  killing  t'  de  chap  what  was 
killed  has  de  effect,'  says  he,  'has  de  effect  of 
creating  a  great  tirst,  and  I  wants  t'  know  which 
poison  dat  is.' 

"  Say,  dat  Mr.  Paul  is  de  boss  jollier,  sure. 

"  Honest,  Mr.  Paul  didn't  know  where  de  court 
was,  and  him  born  in  New  York ! 

"Mr.  Burton  told  me  I  might  go  if  I'd  stop  in 
on  me  way  and  look  at  a  bull  pup  he  is  wanting  t' 
buy.  Was  I  telling  you  about  dat  bull  pup? 

"  Well,  I  takes  Mr.  Paul  down  t'  de  Court  of 


160  CHIMMIE  FADDEN  IN  COURT. 

General  Sessions — what  ain't  its  name,  'cause  it  is 
General  Smite's  court — but  do  mug  at  tie  door 
wouldn't  let  us  in.  I  offered  t'  scrap  wid  de  mug 
and  let  Mr.  Paul  get  in.  whilst  we  was  scrapping, 
but  Mr.  Paul  knovved  one  of  de  lawyers  what's 
being  a  lawyer  for  his  healt',  and  he  sends  in  his 
card  t'  him,  and  we  was  let  in. 

"Say,  did  you  ever  seen  de  Recorder?  I  seen 
him  often  when  I  was  a  kid  selling  poipers.  He's 
a  wonder.  Mr.  Paul  couldn't  keep  his  eyes  off  his 
face,  and  after  we  watched  de  jawing  for  a  while 
Mr.  Paul  whispers  t'  me  dat  do  whole  gang  must 
be  on  trial,  all  de  lawyers  and  de  witness  and  de 
mugs  in  de  jury  box,  as  Avell  as  de  'fendant. 

"  Dat  was  because  de  way  de  Recorder  made 
dem  all  come  up  t'  time  and  take  dere  little  medi 
cine,  wedder  dey  liked  it  or  not.  Dere  was  law 
yers  enough  dere  t'  play  a  game  of  ball,  and  when 
dey'd  all  get  jawing  to  onct,  like  a  cable-car  gong, 
de  Recorder  would  chip  in  one  word  and  den  de 
whole  gang  would  stop  so  suddint  and  look  so 
paralyzed  dat  yon  couldn't  tell  de  lawyers  from  de 
mug  what  dey  say  done  up  a  man  wid  poison. 

"  Dere  was  a  doctor  on  de  stand  what  was  using 
such  langwudge  he  ought  t'  be  sent  t'  de  Island 
and  do  time  for  it.  You  never  heard  such  talk  in 
your  life.  Even  Dago  isn't  as  bad. 


CHIMM1E  FADDEN  IN  COURT.  161 

"  Dere  was  one  of  de  'fendant's  lawyers  what 
was  talking  back  and  using  langwudge  near  as 
bad,  and  Mr.  Paul  was  near  crazy  'ca.use  de  law 
yer  never  ast  what  was  de  tirst  poison. 

"  After  a  while  Mr.  Paul  writes  on  a  card  t'  de 
lawyer  lie  knowed,  telling  him  t'  have  de  lawyer 
what  was  talking  wid  de  witness  ast  de  witness 
:bout  de  tirst  poison. 

"  De  lawyer  what  got  de  card  he  grinned  and 
passed  de  card  over  t'  de  odder  lawyer,  and  he 
grinned,  and  den  he  ast  de  witness  a  question. 

"Mr.  Paul  wrote  de  question  down  for  me,  and 
you  can  read  it  your  own  self  on  dis  poiper.  I 
ain't  no  saint,  but  I  knows  what  is  decent  man 
ners,  and  I  wouldn't  use  no  such  langwudge  as 
dat  if  I  could.  Read  it." 

Now,  doctor,  mention  a  mineral  poison  which 
in  toxic  doses  produces  a  characteristic  pathologi 
cal  condition  of  the  viscera,  the  existence  of  which 
lesion  might  have  a  tendency  to  superinduce  an 
abnormal  thirst. 

"  Dat's  right.  You  read  it  right.  When  de 
lawyer  ast  dose  words  de  witness  says,  'Anti 
mony.  '  When  Mr.  Paul  hears  de  answer  he  gets 
up  and  bows  low  t'  de  lawyer  he  knowed  and  de 
odder  lawyer,  and  we  sneaks. 

"  When  we  gets  out  on  Chambers  Street  Mr.  Paul 


162  CHJMMIE  FADDEN  IN  COURT. 

says,  'Chames,  show  me  a  drug  store.  I  want 
some  of  dat  blessed  antimony,  so  dat  if  I  ever 
loses  me  tirst  I  can  take  a  toxic  dose  and  die  wid- 
out  regret. ' 

"I  says  t'  him,  says  I,  'What  fell,'  I  says. 
'Any  old  day  will  do  fer  cle  poison.  I  has  f  go 
and  look  at  dat  bull  pup,'  I  says." 


CHIMM1E  ON  THE  STUMP. 


**  *  A  RE  you  ready,  Chames?'  says  de  Duchess, 
and  I  yells  back  t'  her:  'In  a  minute!'  I 
says,  giving  her  de  Goff  game.  See? 

"  It  was  my  night  off,  and  me  and  de  Duchess 
and  Maggie  was  going  t'  chase  ourselfs  down  t' 
de  Bow'ry  t'  see  me  friend  de  barkeep,  what  is 
now  Maggie  de  housemaid's  stead}*.  Don't  you 
cop  dat?  Steady  comp'ny.  Yes,  dat's  right. 

"Well,  Maggie  and  do  Duchess  was  waiting  for 
me,  cause  I  was  tying  me  tie  like  Mr.  Burton, 
Miss  Fannie's  husband,  ties  his,  what's  a  regular 
razzle-dazzle  t'  do,  but  when  you  gets  it  done — 
why,  say,  it's  a  wonder,  a  peach ! 

"  Den  I  sticks  in  one  of  Mr.  Burton's  pins  what 
I  knowed  he  wouldn't  want  dat  night,  him  being 
in  dress  close,  and.  I  gave  me  hair  de  varnish  part 
down  de  middle,  and  I  puts  on  me  silk  dicer,  and 
sa)T !  I  was  past  de  limit  for  style.  When  I  went 
t'  de  girls,  Maggie,  do  housemaid,  says  t'  me,  she 
says,  'Chimmie,'  saysshe,  'Chimmie,  yeradream.' 

"'Maggie,'  says  I,  'I  was  dreaming'  till  you 
copped  me  wid  your  blue  Irish  eyes,  and  dose  al 
ways  makes  me  dead  unto  meself, '  I  says. 

"  Now  dat  Maggie  has  a  steady  of  her  own  de 


166  CI11MM1E  ON  THE  STUMP. 

Duchess  don't  make  no  kick  when  me  and  Maggie 
gives  each  odder  de  jolly.  Dat's  de  funny  ting 
'bout  women.  Dey  is  never  jealous  of  you  'bout 
anodder  woman  what  has  a  steady,  but  when  de 
odder  woman  marries  de  steady  den  she's  jealous 
of  her  again,  if  you  just  jollies  her  a  little  bit.  I'd 
liket'  know  what  fell,  dat's  what  I'd  like  to  know; 
for  if  a  steady  makes  a  woman  safe,  den  a  husband 
otter  make  her  safer.  Dat's  right,  ain't  it?  Sure. 

"But  you  never  can't  tell  'bout  what  a  woman 
is  going  to  do  till  it  don't  do  you  no  good  to  know. 

"  Well,  I  was  going  t'  tell  you  :  We  chases  down 
town  and  meets  me  friend  de  barkeep,  and  I  taut 
he  must  have  wheels  in  his  head,  for  he  was  dat 
ratty. 

"'What  fell?'  I  says  f  him.  'Has  dey  broke 
your  drum?'  says  I,  'cause  me  friend  runs  his  own 
drum,  where  me  and  Mr.  Paul  was  to  de  op'ning 
what  I  was  telling  you  'bout. 

"'Me  drum's  all  right,  Chimmie,'  says  he,  'but 
me  friend  Shiner  Simpson  is  up  against  it,  and  I 
wants  you  f  help  me.' 

"  'Any  friend  of  my  friend,  on  your  life !'  I  says 
f  him.  See? 

"  Den  he  cops  off  de  game  f  me  right.  It  was 
like  dis:  De  mug  what  was  trying  f  break  into 
Congress — 'Where  dey  makes  de  laws  for  de  lawyers 


CHIMMIE  ON  THE  STUMP.  167 

— agin  his  friend  Shiner,  in  de  Nint'  district,  had 
a  swell  mug  from  uptown  making  a  speech  for 
him  dat  night  in  Frog  Hollow,  and  me  friend  was 
dead  crazy  t'  get  a  swell  mug  t'  make  a  speech  for 
Shiner,  'cause  dat's  all  de  style  down  dere  now- 
days,  t'  have  swell  mugs  talk;  but  de  odder  side 
had  run  in  a  ringer,  and  me  friend  hadn't  got  on 
t'  his  being  a  dead  swell  'till  just  before  we  meets 
him,  and  he  wanted  de  worse  way  t'  break  even. 
He  wanted  t'  know  couldn't  I  get  Mr.  Paul  or  Mr. 
Burton.  I  knowed  dat  wasn't  no  go,  'cause  bote 
of  dem  was  out  wid  Miss  Fannie  t'  dinner. 

"  Den  me  friend  de  barkeep  says,  all  of  a  sud- 
dint,  'Chimmie,'  says  he,  'Chimrnie,  you  can  do 
de  trick  yourself !' 

'"Whatt'ell !'  Isays.  'Don't  give  me  no  game,' 
says  I. 

"Dat's  one  ting  I  never  done  on  de  Bow'ry:  pol 
itics.  I  s'pose  if  I  had  I'd  be  owning  me  own 
dram  and  running  it,  but  I  never  clone  it.  Hon 
est. 

''  But  he  says  dat  all  de  folks  what  uster  know 
me  in  de  Nint'  had  a  notion  dat  I'd  become  a  real 
Hvvell.  Dat  comes  from  me  friend  de  barkeep  tell 
ing  fairy  stories,  just  for  a  jolly,  'bout  me  having 
been  left  money  t'  burn  a  wet  dog  wid  by  a 
uncle. 


168  CHIMM1E  ON  THE  STUMP. 

"'You're  dressed  like  a  swell,  you  knows  all  de 
places  in  de  Nint',  and  dat'll  tickle  de  gang,  and 
you  can  do  de  trick,'  says  me  friend. 

"'Chirnmie,'  says  Maggie  de  housemaid,  'you 
can  do  de  trick,' she  says.  She  is  Irish  and  it 
was  politics,  so  she  was  near  having  a  fit  wid 

joy. 

"  Say,  I  began  to  feel  kinder  queer,  and  I  says 
t'  de  Duchess: 

"'Shall  I  make  de  front,  Duchess?' 

"  Well,  dat  Duchess  is  a  dead  game  torrowhred 
if  ever  dere  was  one  come  from  forn  parts.  She 
says  t'  me:  'Chames,'  she  says,  'do  de  trick,  and 
I'll  be  proud  of  you.  I  never  knowed  you  t'  try 
nothing  yet  you  didn't  win.' 

"  Holy  gee,  I  was  in  for  it,  and  I  asts  me  friend 
de  barkeep  what  would  we  do  wid  de  girls. 

"  'Do  nothing !'  says  Maggie.  ' Me  and  de  Duch 
ess  is  going  t'  root  for  you.'  Dat's  right.  Dat's 
what  Maggie  de  housemaid  says,  and  me  friend 
gives  her  a  hug  right  where  we  was  chinning  on 
de  sidewalk. 

"  Say,  when  I  was  a  kid  and  had  a  fight  on  me 
hands  I  was  always  dead  crazy  t'  get  it  off  me 
hands,  and  dat  was  de  way  I  felt  as  de  four  of  us 
chases  ourselfs  over  t'  Frog  Hollow.  Well,  dere 
on  two  corners  was  two  trucks  wid  torches,  and 


CHIMMIE  ON  THE  STUMP.  169 

crowds,  and  music,  and  cheers,  and  I  began  t'  feel 
like  I  had  skates  on. 

"  Me  friend  de  barkeep  pushes  up  to  one  of  de 
trucks  where  a  mug  had  just  done  a  turn.  Before 
I  knowed  anyting  we  was  dragged  up  on  de  truck 
and  de  girls  was  set  in  chairs,  and  me  friend  de 
barkeep  was  giving  me  a  knockdown  t'  de  crowd. 
After  he  had  given  me  a  great  jolly,  he  says : 
'Dough  de  Hon'able  Mr.  Chames  Fadden  may 
now  be  at  home  in  de  purlieus  of  de  rich  and 
wealt'y,  he  has  never  forgot  de  friends  of  his  boy 
hood,  and  he  deems  it  a  priv'lege  dis  evening  t' 
meet  youse  agin,  t'  'cuss  de  polit'cal  problems  of 
de  times  on  behalf  of  his  well  'steemed  friend, 
Shiner  Simpson.  He  is  wid  us  t'  night  proud  t' 
bring  wid  him  in  our  midst  de — er — de  loidies  of 
his  household.' 

"  Say,  wid  dat  de  Duchess  and  Maggie  makes  a 
bow  from  one  end  of  de  truck  t'  de  odder,  and  dey 
bote  looked  outter  sight,  for  de  Duchess  had  on 
Miss  Fannie's  close  and  Maggie  had  on  de 
Duchess's.  Den  de  quartet  from  Starvation  Alley 
sung: 

"  '  He  always  loves  to  wander  wid  his  whole  household, ' 

and  me  friend  de  barkeep  says,  'Loidies  and 
gents,  Mr.  Chimmie  Fadden.' 


170  CHIMMIE  ON  THE  STUMP. 

"  Say,  holy  gee,  wid  dat  Maggie  de  housemaid 
let  out  a  yell  you  could  heard  away  over  to  Stag- 
town,  and  it  set  de  crowd  crazy.  I  knows  dose 
people,  and  so  does  Maggie.  Dere's  nottin'  works 
dem  up  so  quick  as  a  good  yell,  and  de  one  Maggie 
let  out  killed  dem  dead. 

"Den  I  takes  off  me  silk  dicer,  and  when  de}' 
seen  de  middle  varnish  part  t'  me  hair  one  mug 
yells  out:  'Cop  de  dude  wig  Chimmie  has  got  on 
'Fift' Avenue!' 

"  I  knowed  de  mug,  and  I  points  me  finger  at 
him  and  says:  'Say,  Plug  Jacobs  of  (TRaflerty's 
Roost,  you  don't  belong  here;  you  belong  over  by 
de  odder  truck,  for  you've  got  two  left  feet.' 

"  Well,  you  otter  heard  de  gang  yell  at  dat.  T' 
tell  a  mug  he  has  two  left  feet  is  de  worst  ting  you 
can  say  t'  him  in  de  Nint'.  Some  one  punched 
him  in  de  jaw,  and  de)*  trowed  him  out  of  de 
crowd.  'We're  wid  you,  Chimmie,'  dey  yelled. 

"Den  I  says,  'Felly  Cit'zens!'  I  says,  'I  could 
talk  pol'tics  to  you  till  your  ears  fell  off,  'cause 
since  I  left  de  glorious  Nint'  District  I  ain't  had 
nottin'  t'  do  'cept  study  pol'tics.' 

'"True  for  you!'  cried  Maggio,  and  she  gives 
anodder  one  of  dose  Kerry  }*ells  of  hers  dat  sets  de 
crowd  crazy  again. 

"'But  what  fell  has  pol'tics  t'  do  wid  dis  ques- 


CHIMMIE  ON  THE  STUMP.  171 

tion?'  says  I.  'De  only  ting  a  man  what  is  a  man 
has  t'  say  t'  himself  is  wedder  Shiner  is  a  dead 
game  sport;  wedder  he  ever  went  back  on  his 
friends.  Did  he?' 

"'Not  on  your  life!'  de  crowd  yelled,  and  Mag 
gie  hollered:  'Not  in  a  tousan'  years!' 

"  Say,  while  de  crowd  was  yelling  I  was  trying 
t'  cop  off  de  real  swell  what  was  chinning  on  de 
odder  truck.  I  couldn't  hear  a  word  he  said  for 
de  noise,  and  dere  was  a  torch  what  kep  me  from 
getting  a  good  look ;  but  I  seen  dat  he  had  on  a 
dinky  slouch  hat  and  a  dinky  overcoat 

"Dat's  de  trouble  wid  swell  mugs  what  don't 
know  dose  people  like  I  do.  Dey  tink  dey  must 
dress  like  a  farmer  or  a  bum  when  dey  goes  t' 
dem.  De  better  a  swell  dresses  de  better  dey 
likes  it. 

"  'De  felly  what's  trying  t'  break  into  Congress 
agin  Shiner,'  I  says,  'is  like  de  swell  what's  spout 
ing  for  him  on  de  odder  truck;  'he's  one  ting  here 
to  you  and  anodder  ting  up  town.  Ain't  youv 
felly  citizens  of  de  Nint',  good  enough  for  his 
Sunday  close?' 

"  De  crowd  began  t'  groan  at  him. 

"'I  guess,'  I  says,  'he  put  on  his  old  clothes  so 
dey  wouldn't  be  hurt  much  if  you  trowed  tings  a; 
dem. ' 


172  CH1MMIE  ON  THE  STUMP. 

"De  gang  was  onto  me  meaning  in  a  second, 
and  began  f  trow  cabbage-leaves,  tomatoes,  and  I 
don't  know  what  fell  at  de  swell. 

"Just  den  de  Duchess  pulls  me  coat-tail  and 
says,  like  she  was  near  having  a  fit:  'Mon  Dieu, 
Chames,  stop  dem !  De  man  on  de  odder  truck  is 
his  Whiskers!' 

"  Say,  I  near  fell  off  de  truck,  sure.  I  got  de 
crowd  to  stop  pelting  him,  and  just  told  all  de  funny 
stories  I  knowed  fast  as  I  could.  De  odder  crowd 
came  over  to  ours,  and  I  says,  'I  tink  de  odder 
swell  is  inviting  de  cit'zens  of  de  Ninf  to  a  pig's- 
head  razoo  with  plenty  of  curly  cabbage  and  col- 
cannon.  ' 

"Den  dey  gives  his  Whiskers  de  laugh,  'cause 
most  of  de  people  in  de  Ninf  don't  eat  pig's-head. 

"Well,  pretty  soon  I  had  all  de  crowd,  and  his 
Whiskers  was  talking  f  himself  something  'bout 
de  interduction  of  American  pork  into  German}'. 
I  guess  dat  was  pol'tics,  what  I  don't  know 
netting  'bout;  but  I  know,  wid  one  hand  tied  be 
hind  me,  dat  pork  don't  go  in  de  Ninf. 

"I  was  crazy  for  fear  his  Whiskers  might  git 
onto  me,  so  I  says,  'Felly  cit'zens,  talk  is  good, 
but  song  is  better.  Miss  Maggie  will  favor  us  wid 
"Molly  O."' 

"And  she  done  it.     Maggie  can  sing  like  a 


CHIMMIE  ON  THE  STUMP.  173 

peach,  and  she  give  it  to  dem  good,  wid  everybody 
joining  in  de  chorus.  Some  of  de  gang  what  was 
furderest  from  our  truck  all  of  a  suddint  grabbed 
de  truck  his  Whiskers  was  on  and  ran  it  off  a 
block  so  as  he  wouldn't  disturb  de  singing. 

:i Chames,' says  de  Duchess  dat  night,  giving 
me  a  kiss,  'Chames,  I'm  proud  of  you.  But  tell 
me,  Chames,  what  was  dat  meeting  about?' 

"Not  wishing  to  keep  anyting  back  from  her, 
I  returns  her  kiss,  and  I  says,  'Duchess,'  says  I, 
'damn  it'  I  know.'" 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.  PAUL, 


u  O  AY,  you  know  me  friend  de  barkeep?     Well. 
he's  no  dead  tough    mug   from    de    Fort' 
Ward,  but  he's  right  people.     Sure;  he's  just  as 
right  people  as  dere  is  on  de  Bow'ry. 

"  Well,  I  meets  him  de  odder  day  and  he  tells 
me  he  ain't  going  to  barkeep  for  anodder  mug  no 
longer,  'cause  he  has  bought  a  drum  of  his  own 
what  he's  going  t'  run.  He  says  t'  me,  says  he, 
'Chimmie,'  he  says,  'I'm  going  to  open  me  own 
drum  on  Friday,'  says  he;  'not  for  public  trade  till 
Saturday,  but  just  to  a  few  gents  who  has  never 
done  me  wrong,  and  I  wants  t'  see  dere  faces  open 
widout  dere  shoving  de  price  acrost  de  bar.  See?' 

"  I  told  him  he'd  copped  me  off  straight,  and  I 
would  be  wid  him  if  Mr.  Burton  had  no  use  for 
me  dat  night,  and  I  could  make  a  sneak  from  de 
Duchess.  Den  I  says  t'  him  could  I  fetch  a  friend, 
and  he  says,  'An}'  friend  of  my  friend,  on  your 
life,'  he  says.  See?  Ain't  he  right  people? 

"  Say,  what  do  you  tink  I  was  tinking  of?  Mr. 
Paul.  Dat's  right.  Mr.  Paul  often  says  t'  me 
dat  he's  stuck  on  de  Bow'ry,  and  he  wondered 
would  I  fetch  him  wid  mo  any  old  day  when  I  was 
just  happening  t'  be  going  dere. 


178      CHIMM1E  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.    PAUL. 

"  So  de  next  time  I  seen  Mr.  Paul  I  asks  him 
would  he  like  t'  chase  along  wid  me  t'  de  opening 
of  de  drum  of  me  friend  de  barkeep. 

"  Den  he  looks  solemn  as  do  Recorder,  and  he 
says  wouldn't  me  friend  spoil  his  drum  if  he 
opened  it.  He  was  just  putting  up  a  front  dat  he 
didn't  know  dat  on  the  Bow'ry  de  right  name  for 
a  joint  is  a  drum.  If  I  had  de  front  of  Mr.  Paul 
I'd  run  an  elevator  up  it  so  as  folks  could  get  onto 
me.  I  was  easy  on  dat  he  was  kidding  me,  'cause 
I'll  give  you  de  straight  pipe  tip  dere  ain't  a  dead 
swell  mug  in  town  what  knows  de  Bow'ry  better 
dan  Mr.  Paul.  He  puts  up  a  front  of  being  leary 
of  running  up  against  it  dere,  so  as  t'  get  me  t' 
chase  along  wid  him,  t'  steer  him.  Dat's  what  he 
calls  me  guiding  him.  See? 

"  Well,  de  night  me  friend  de  barkeep  give  de 
reception  at  his  drum  I  told  de  Duchess  I  has  t' 
see  a  felly  'bout  a  bull  pup — was  I  tellin'  you  about 
dat  bull  pup? — and  she  asks  me  wasn't  dat  pup  a 
grandfadder  yet.  I  told  her  she  was  straight,  dat 
it  was  de  grandson  pup  I  was  chasing. 

"  Well,  I  makes  de  sneak,  and  meets  Mr.  Paul 
on  de  corner  of  Fourteent'  street  and  Fort'  avenue, 
and  we  chases  t'  de  new  place  of  me  friend  de 
barkeep. 

"  Say,    dere   was   a   great   gang   dere.     All    de 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.    PAUL.      179 

Bow'ry  swells,  and  dey  give  me  de  willing  hand, 
and  trows  a  drink  down  me  troat  as  soon  as  dey 
piped  me.  I  was  dead  hungry,  so  I  tells  de  mug 
at  de  lunch  counter  t'  chicken  me,  and  den  he 
hammed  me  and  sandwiched  me,  and  before  I  was 
tru  feeding  me  face  Mr.  Paul  had  done  de  hand 
shake  wid  every  mug  in  de  drum,  and  was  a  dead 
easy  favorite.  I  knowed  as  soon  as  I  seen  de  way 
he  had  captured  tie  gang  he'd  never  run  up  against 
it  on  de  Bow'ry  in  a  t'ousand  years. 

"  Say,  you  never  seen  anything  like  de  way  he 
was  jollying.  Why,  he  could  run  a  comic  paper 
in  a  walk. 

"•Well,  after  Mr.  Paul  had  done  dem  all  fair, 
and  we  takes  anodder  bracer  t'  keep  our  healt' 
right  against  de  rain,  we  says  's'long'  t'  de  gang 
and  chases  ourselves.  'Chimmie, '  says  Mr.  Paul 
t'  me,  'Chimmie,  I  has  passed  a  most  joyous  even 
ing,'  he  says,  meaning  dat  tings  had  went  his  way, 
easy,  'cause  I'm  onto  dose  dude  langwudge,  'a 
most  joyous  and  destructive  evening,'  says  he, 
'and  it  would  give  me  great  graft' — no,  'much 
pleasure,'  dat  was  it — 'much  pleasure  t'  have  you 
come  wid  me  and  feed  your  face' — no,  'have  some 
supper,'  dat's  right — 'have  some  supper  wid  me.' 

"  Say,  I'm  dead  on  t'  Mr.  Paul.  He  don't  care 
how  nobody  sizes  up  his  game,  see?  I  knowed 


180      CHIMMIE  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.    PAUL. 

dat  if  he  took  it  into  his  nut  t'  blow  me  off  at  de 
swellest  rest'rant  in  town  he'd  do  me  proud,  wed- 
der  all  de  dudes  he  knows  was  dere  or  not.  Let 
me  tell  you :  He  has  de  long  green  t'  burn  a  wet 
dog  wid,  and  a  joint  in  de  country  and  a  yacht 
and  more  horses  dan  a  circus,  and  if  he  puts  up 
some  crazy  game  de  real  swells  dey  just  laughs  or 
lets  on  dey  don't  tumble,  and  de  Willie  boys  dey 
runs  round  losing  dere  breat'  telling  how  centrif 
ugal — no,  dat's  not  it.  What!  Eccentric?  Yes, 
dat's  right— telling  how  eccentric  he  is. 

"  So  I  says  I  was  wid  him,  and  we  goes  to  a  lot 
of  places  where  Mr.  Paul  looks  in;  but  we  didn't 
break  in  'till  we  strikes  one  where  dere  was  a  big 
flock  of  Willie  boys  drinking  green  mint,  what's  a 
kind  of  oil  dat  tastes  like  candy  dey  pours  over 
ice. 

"  Before  we  goes  in  Mr.  Paul  cops  me  off  straight 
for  de  game  I  was  t'  play.  'Chames,'  says  he, 
'I've  heard  you  talk  like  dese  Willie  bo}'S  when 
you  was  kiddin'  Maggie  de  housemaid.' 

"Say,  I  ain't  got  a  curve  dat  Mr.  Paul  ain't 
onto. 

"Den  he  says:  'If  I  introduces  you  to  any  of 
dese  Willies  I  wants  you  t'  talk  like  dem,  and  do 
it  wid  a  straight  front.  See?'  Dem's  de  very 
words  he  says  t'  me,  and  den  we  goes  in,  and  all 


CHIMMIE  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.    PAUL.      1.81 

de  waiters  near  breaks  dere  backs  bowing  us  t' 
dere  tables. 

"  Well,  we  takes  seats,  and  all  de  mugs  what 
was  trowing  green  mint  into  dere  faces  begins  pip 
ing  me  like  dey  never  could  get  dere  eyes  shut 
again,  'cause  most  of  dem  knowed  who  I  was,  wid 
seeing  me  on  Miss  Fannie's  carriage  when  I  uster 
ride  on  de  box.  Well,  pretty  soon  two  of  dem 
comes  over  to  our  table  and  gives  Mr.  Paul  de  sore- 
arm  handshake.  Don't  you  know  what  dat  is? 
Dat's  de  handshake  like  you  was  trying  t'  keep  de 
sun  out  of  your  eyes,  sure. 

"  As  dey  was  sailing  over  to  us,  Mr.  Paul  says 
dat  dey  were  bote  working  him  hard  for  a  invite 
to  his  yacht  party,  and  after  de  handshake  he  in 
troduces  dem  t'  me,  on  de  dead  level,  like  I  was 
one  of  dem,  see. 

"At  first  dey  kinder  giggled  and  chuckled,  like 
de}*  was  having  some  fun  wid  dereselfs,  but  Mr. 
Paul  stared  at  dem  till  dey  tumbled,  and  den  he 
ask  dem  would  dey  join  us  in  a  bottle. 

"Dey  joined  us,  hard  enough,  but  it  was  like 
dey  had  a  invite  t'  join  in  a  bumblebee  party. 

"One  of  dem  says  t'  me,  says  he,  'Mr.  Fadden,' 
he  says,  'I  fauncy  you  don't  d wink  champagne 
often,'  says  he. 

"  Mr.  Paul  gives  me  de  wink  t'  trun  him,  and  I 


182     CHIMM1E  FADDEN  TREATS  MR.    PAUL. 

says,  'Not  often,'  I  says,  like  him,  see?  'Not 
often.  I  tink  it's  quite  a  vulgah  dvvink,  old  chap 
pie.  I  mostly  dwink  close  Vu-jo  or  Chamber- 
tang,'  I  says. 

"De  Willie  boy  got  red,  but  Mr.  Paul  only  looks 
solemner  dan  before,  and  den  I  says  t'  de  odder 
Willie,  'Old  chappie,'  says  I,  'ain't  you  afraid  dis 
champagne  won't  agree  wid  your  mixed  ale?'  I 
says. 

"  Den  dey  bote  jumped  up,  real  saucy,  and  flew 
de  coop  widout  so  much  as  saying  's'long. ' 

"  Mr.  Paul  looks  tautful  a  minute,  and  den  he 
says:  'Chames,'  he  says,  'how  much  better  your 
friends  treated  me  dan  my  friends  treated  you. 
I'm  afraid,  Chames,  dat  you  have  made  dose  little 
boys  so  cross  dey  won't  come  t'  me  yacht  party. 
Derefore,  pay  de  waiter  wid  dis  five  and  divide  de 
change  wid  him.'" 


A  LOST  CHORD. 


"  ATTO!" 

"  See  here,  Tommy,  you've  called  Otto 
often  enough.  Let's  go  home." 

Tommy  Paget  stared  at  the  Anarchist ;  he  was 
usually  the  last  to  leave  the  supper-table.  It  was 
there  he  had  his  cherished  opportunities  to  ex 
pound  all  the  "isms"  his  editor  disapproved;  and 
so  long  as  Lynn,  Dunnigan,  Paget,  or  any  of  the 
late  men  ho  chummed  with  would  stay  at  the 
supper-table,  Patsy,  the  Anarchist,  never  sug 
gested  leaving. 

"  Headache,  Patsy?"  asked  Tommy. 

"  No,  only  you  are  such  a  complete  ass  about 
drinking,  after  you  had  had  as  much  as  a  man 
should  drink  with  his  supper." 

This  response  of  Patsy's  was  greeted  with 
laughter  by  all.  the  men  at  the  table,  Patsy 
never  having  distinguished  himself  by  conti 
nence  in  cups.  Patsy  himself  grinned  a  little, 
and  then  said : 

"  It's  all  right  for  you,  Dunni  and  Lynn,  who 
have  been  drinking  with  your  suppers  every  night 
these  fifteen  years,  and  always  go  home  as  sober 

as  a  judge  should  be ;  but  for  this  young  cub  to  try 

185 


186  A  LOST  CHORD. 

to  get  ahead  of  the  malt-beverage  production   of 
the  country  makes  me — 

"  It  makes  you  prosy,  Patsy,"  interrupted  Paget. 
"  Life  is  too  long  as  it  is  for  us  to  endure  the  An 
archist  turned  prosy.  Otto ! 

"'What,  without  asking,  hither  hurried  Whence? 
And,  without  asking,  Whither  hurried  hence? 
Oh,  many  a  Cup  of  this  forbidden  Wine 
Must  drown  the  memory  of  that  insolence  !'" 

Tommy  Paget  trilled  these  lines  as  if  they  had 
the  significance  of  a  sentimental  song — and  no 
more;  but  the  Anarchist  started  angrily,  then 
laughed,  and  said: 

"  Well,  Tommy,  since  you  won't  go,  I'll  tell  you 
a  story  about  the  last  time  I  heard  a  drunken  man 
quote  a  Rubaiyat.  The  story  may  also  throw  an 
illuminating  side-light  on  my  present  virtuous 
frame  of  mind  concerning  rum.  All  right,  Otto ! 

"  As  you  know,  I  was  up  North,  last  week  gath 
ering  pearls  of  scandal  to  embroider  on  that  sensa 
tion  Dunni  has  woven  out  of  the  Mason  case. 

"  To  catch  a  night-train  down,  I  was  driven  over 
from  Oroville  to  the  town  of  Gridley,  and  upon 
inquiring  how  much  late  the  train  would  be,  found 
I  should  have  the  social  delights  of  the  town  at  my 
disposal  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  had 


A  LOST  CHORD.  187 

a  book  and  found  a  beer-hall,  so  was  doing  very 
well  until  I  was  distracted  by  the  demands  of  an 
insufficiently  drunken  tramp  to  supply  him  with 
'the  forbidden  Cup,'  for  which  he  offered  to  ex 
change  a  song. 

"It  is  my  belief  that  the  Cup  is  a  beneficent 
agency  in  promoting  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  so 
the  bargain  was  made.  He  took  whiskey — Grid- 
ley  whiskey — and  as  much  as  the  barkeeper  would 
permit.  Then  he  wobbled  over  to  a  piano,  which 
had  a  tone  like  a  keg  of  nails,  and  proceeded  to 
make  noises  that  gradually  assumed  a  resemblance 
to  'The  Lost  Chord.'  As  he  reached  the  bravura, 
'It  may  be  that  only  in  heaven,'  I  suddenly  became 
very  much  interested.  He  had  swung  into  the  big 
accompaniment  as  no  one  could  who  had  not  once 
played  it  perfectly,  his  voice  cleared  on  the  last 
notes,  and  he  took  them  with  evidence  of  careful 
training. 

"  I  was  suddenly  conscious  that  I  was  listening 
to  a  man  whose  name,  seven  or  eight  years  ago, 
was  constantly  in  every  social  column  in  the  city. 

"  He  had  been  a  society  feature.  His  people  were 
good;  his  musical  education  brilliant;  handsome, 
well-dressed,  and — clerk  in  a  mining  office  at  sixty 
dollars  a  month. 

"You  remember  the  case,  Dunni — only  a   few 


188  A  LOST  CHORD. 

thousand  short — friends  squared  it — disappeared — 
forgotten. 

"There  were  tears  in  his  poor,  shallow  eyes 
when  I  thanked  him  and  asked  him  to  sit  at  my 
table.  He  had  a  mustache  and  beard  like  a  ragged 
chrysanthemum,  and  very  little  resemblance  to  a 
human  being,  yet  it  pleased  me  to  act  as  if  he  were 
what  I  had  known  him  to  be.  After  he  had  ac 
cepted  several  payments  for  the  song,  and  had  a 
brave  and  merry  heart,  I  let  him  know  that  I  knew 
him — he  had  never  known  me. 

"  He  told  me  graciously  that  he  had  just  opened 
up  a  tremendously  rich  quartz-mine,  and  was  then 
on  his  way  to  the  city  to  order  a  mill,  but  would 
be  delayed  a  day  or  so,  as  he  had  lost  his  trunk 
from  the  stage,  coming  down  from  the  mountains. 

"  The  game  soon  bored  me,  and  I  left  him  there. 
I  walked  up  and  down  the  main  street  for  an  hour, 
meditating  on  the  all-pervading  sweetness  and 
light  of  existence  and  the  mutability  of  railroad 
time-tables,  until  I  was  disturbed  by  cries  from 
the  halls  of  pleasure  I  had  last  left.  Hurrying 
back  there — it  is  deadly  dull  waiting  for  a  delayed 
train  past  midnight — I  found  the  proprietor  of  the 
place  strengthening  himself  in  righteousness  by 
kicking  my  singer  into  the  gutter.  As  he  had 
already  kicked  him  into  insensibility,  which  was 


A  LOST  CHORD.  189 

all  the  victim,  even,  could  have  asked,  I  suggested 
that  hostilities  cease.  They  did  not,  so  I  accepted 
the  pleasant  opportunity  of  warming  myself  by 
thrashing  the  somewhat  amazed  proprietor. 

"  Tommy,  when  you  give  up  being  a  journalist 
and  become  a  newspaper  man,  by  all  means  en 
deavor  to  get  out-of-town  details.  They  afford 
many  pleasant  and  ennobling  experiences,  and 
some  time  it  may  even  be  your  knightly  fate  to 
bark  your  knuckles  against  a  bumpkin's  head  in 
defence  of  a  fellow-creature  who  is  as  drunk  as  he 
wants  to  be. 

"  I  made  the  silent  singer  as  comfortable  as  the 
facilities  of  the  gutter  permitted  and  resumed  my 
walk,  my  pleasant  meditations  now  enriched  with 
reminiscences  of  the  last  time  I  had  seen  my 
singer.  He  had  taken  the  leading  part  in  a  society 
drama  played  by  swell  amateurs  for  a  fashionable 
charity.  I  had  reported  the  affair. 

"When  I  went  to  the  station,  at  two  o'clock,  the 
agent  told  me  that  I  had  an  hour  longer  to  wait, 
so  I  was  not  half  sorry  to  find  my  Lost  Chord  on 
the  platform.  I  wanted  some  one  to  talk  to,  and 
the  station-agent  wanted  to  sleep. 

"The  Lost  Chord  was  in  a  pretty  bad  way. 
The  warmth  of  his  cups  had  left  him,  and  his 
clothes  not  being  weather-proof,  he  was  rapidly 


190  A  LOST  CHORD. 

shaking  himself  to  pieces.  He  had  forgotten  the 
kicking,  the  superior  agony  of  incipient  delirium 
making  the  ache  of  bruised  bones  a  matter  of 
indifference.  It  seemed  both  wise  and  charitable 
to  assist  him  to  expire  with  a  flash,  rather  than  let 
him  merely  cease  to  exist  for  lack  of  energy  to 
shiver  longer,  so  I  gave,  him  my  flask— a  full  one. 
He  was  soon  as  bold  and  happy  a  being  as — as 
you  were  a  few  minutes  ago,  Tommy;  and  when 
my  train  came  along,  he  was  reciting  poetry  with 
fervor  and  eloquence.  His  bared  and  battered 
head  was  upturned  to  the  glinting  stars,  and  his 
rag-covered  body  was  gracefully  erect.  I  was 
grateful  to — my  flask. 

"  The  train  was  scarcely  under  way  when  there 
was  a  sudden  jerking  of  the  bell-rope,  and  a  pale- 
faced  brakeman  whispered  to  the  conductor:  'A 
damn  tramp  tried  to  jump  us  and  fell  between. '  I 
went  back  with  the  train  hands,  and  as  I  leaned 
over  him  the  Lost  Chord  smiled  and  murmured : 

" '  Drink  !  for  you  know  not  whence  you  came,  nor  why  1 
Drink  !  for  you  know  not  why  you  go,  nor  where  !' 

"In  a  few  minutes  he  went — where? — and  they 
shovelled  it  off  to  one  side  of  the  track. 
"  Otto !     Fill  Mr.  Paget's  glass." 
"  No,  Patsy !     Let's  go  home. " 


'HIS  UAKKIJ    AND   BATTERED    HEAD  WAS   UPTURNED   TO   THE   GLITTERING   STARS. 

—Page  190. 


AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE. 


T  WAS  attracted  to  Pinkey  by  his  great  liveliness 
and  the  fact  that  he  wore  a  portion  of  the  uni 
form  of  a  district  messenger-boy.  "  It  may  be,"  I 
thought,  "that  all  messenger-boys  are  not  born 
tired,  but  that  that  is  a  condition  affecting  them 
only  when  on  duty."  Pinkey,  I  concluded,  was 
not  on  duty.  He  was  uniformed  only  as  to  trousers, 
and  he  was,  as  I  have  said,  most  agreeably  viva 
cious  and  alert. 

I  first  saw  him  emerging  from  a  basement  coffee- 
shop,  from  which,  as  he  passed  a  table  near  the 
door,  he  acquired  an  extra  doughnut  with  great 
skill  and  neatness.  On  the  sidewalk  he  met  a 
uniformed  companion. 

"Hullo,  Stubby." 

"Hullo,  Pinkey." 

They  were  passing  each  other  with  this  when 
Pinkey  produced  the  doughnut  and  grinned. 
Stubby  looked  at  it,  then  at  the  coffee-shop,  and 
then  he  grinned. 

"Give  us  a  piece." 

Pinkey  broke  the  cake  and  was  passing  half  to 
Stubby,  when  he  hesitated,  and  asked : 

"  Got  a  cigarette?" 

X93 


194  AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE. 

"Naw." 

"You're  a  liar!" 

Then  Stubby  grinned,  produced  a  package,  gave 
Pinkey  a  cigarette,  took  half  the  doughnut,  and 
departed,  slowly. 

Pinkey  lighted  up  and  started  rapidly  down  the 
street,  but  stopped  suddenly  in  front  of  a  hand- 
organ,  on  which  was  seated  a  little,  shivering, 
pink-nosed,  white  poodle,  holding  a  tin}'  basket  in 
its  mouth.  Pinkey  made  a  motion  of  depositing 
money  in  the  basket,  and  the  shivering  poodle 
made  a  motion  of  kissing  his  hand.  It  was  the 
poodle's  one  poor  little  trick,  and  it  amused  Pinkey 
enormously ;  he  made  the  dog  do  it  over  and  over 
again,  to  the  rage  of  the  organ-grinder. 

"Go  away,  you  leetle-a  boodlum-a!" 

Then  Pinkey  was  in  a  rage.  He  glared  at  the 
organist  with  eyes  contracted  and  chin  extended, 
and  said  in  a  low,  threatening  growl : 

"Soy,  you  call  me  a  hoodlum  agin  an'  I'll  take 
a  fall  out  of  you !" 

The  Italian — who  was  a  big,  muscular  fellow, 
with  two  sound  legs  tucked  under  him,  and  two 
wooden  stumps  strapped  to  his  knees  sticking  out 
in  front  of  him — looked  ready  to  spring  to  his  feet 
and  demolish  Pinkey. 

"Soy,  I'm    on    to   you,  young  felly.     If   youse 


AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE.  195 

jump  me,  de  cop  will  see  yer  wood  legs  is  fakes, 
and  run  you  off  de  beat.  See?" 

Pinkey  grinned  after  saying  this,  and  made  the 
poodle  kiss  his  hands  again,  and  then  discovered 
that  it  was  ravenously  interested  in  the  greasy 
doughnut  Pinkey  still  carried. 

"Oh,  de  purp's  hungry;  let's  feed  him,"  and  he 
took  the  basket  and  began  feeding  the  famished 
poodle,  while  the  Italian  nearly  had  a  fit  from  rage. 

"  Well,  so  long,  young  felly !"  exclaimed  Pinkey, 
when  he  had  fed  the  poodle  poddy.  "  I'll  be  along 
to-morrow,  an'  if  youse  have  whaled  de  purp  fer 
eating  de  sinker,  I'll  put  de  cop  on  to  yer  fake 
legs." 

Pinkey  replaced  the  basket  in  the  poodle's 
mouth,  patted  its  head,  grinned  at  the  organist, 
shook  his  fist  at  him,  and  started  down  the  street 
at  a  sprinting  pace.  I  hurried  after  him  from  the 
show-window  I  had  been  pretending  to  examine, 
but  his  pace  was  such  that  I  surely  would  have 
lost  him  had  he  not  come  into  violent  collision 
with  a  youngster  about  his  size  who  was  super 
intending  the  progress  of  a  mechanical  toy  across 
the  sidewalk. 

"Who  you  running  into,  kid?"  exclaimed  the 
toy-vender,  picking  up  his  sample  toy — a  yellow 
ostrich,  driven  by  a  green  man,  in  a  red  cart — and 


196  AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE. 

placing  it  by  the  side  of  his  stock  of  goods,  on  the 
edge  of  the  sidewalk.  Pinkey  really  had  the  wind 
knocked  out  of  him  by  the  collision,  and  could  not 
reply  at  once.  He  was  rubbing  his  hands  in  front 
of  him — I  had  seen  that  trick  before,  and  suspected 
what  was  to  follow — and  grinning,  as  he  slowly 
approached  the  unsuspecting  toy-boy.  Without 
a  word  or  sign  of  warning,  Pinkey's  right  flew 
out  and  his  fist  landed  hard  and  flush  on  the 
mouth  of  the  amazed  vender. 

There  was  a  short  but  very  lively  rally  at  close 
quarters,  in  which  Pinkey  was  getting  all  the  best 
of  it  (belonging  to  the  leisure  class,  he  had  more 
time  for  the  practice  of  the  manly  art  of  attack) , 
when  the  gathered  crowd  was  parted  by  the  slow 
and  dignified  entrance  into  the  ring  of  a  policeman. 

"Stop  that!"  exclaimed  the  officer. 

The  boys'  arms  fell  to  their  sides. 

"What's  all  this  about?" 

The  toy-vender  really  did  not  seem  to  know 
what  it  was  all  about,  and  was  silent ;  but  Pinkey 
explained,  without  a  second's  hesitation  : 

"  Why,  Officer  Mullin,  dis  kid  was  blocking  up 
de  whole  sidewalk  wid  his  tin  toys,  an'  a  lady 
nearly  fell  over  one  an'  broke  her  leg,  an'  I  says 
to  him,  'Let  de  lady  pass;  does  de  whole  sidewalk 
belong  to  youse?'  An'  he  says  he  pays  de  cop — de 


AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE.  197 

officer,  I  mean — for  not  running  him  in ;  an'  know 
ing  you,  Mr.  Mullin,  I  says  he  lies,  an'  he  tries  to 
tump  me  an' " 

The  crowd  giggled  and  the  officer  scowled. 

"Pinkey,"he  said,  "you  are  a  little  liar.  Go 
on  about  your  business,  or  I'll  run  you  in  for  fight 
ing  ;  and  you" — to  the  other  boy — "  keep  your  toys 
off  the  sidewalk,  or  I'll  run  you  in."  Then  the 
officer  moved  off  slowly,  and  still  with  dignity. 
While  Pinkey  was  weaving  his  little  romance, 
every  eye  was  fixed  on  his  eloquent  lips:  every 
one's  eyes  except  mine.  I  had  discovered  a  pecul 
iar  motion  of  Pinkey's  feet.  The  tin  ostrich  and 
driver  were  being  skilfully  drawn  apart  from  the 
stock  of  toys,  and,  when  the  officer  moved  off,  the 
toy  was  between  Pinkey's  shoes. 

As  the  officer  disappeared,  Pinkey  dropped  his 
soft  hat,  with  which  he  had  been  pretending  to 
wipe  his  eyes,  and,  stepping  back  as  he  did  so,  the 
hat  fell  over  the  toy.  When  he  picked  it  up  and 
resumed  his  dabs  at  his  dry  eyes,  I  knew  the  toy 
was  safely  his,  and  wickedly  rejoiced. 

Then  Pinkey  darted  off  again ;  and  I  would  have 
had  great  difficulty  in  following  him  had  he  not 
stopped  every  time  he  came  to  a  toy-seller — the 
street  was  lined  with  them — to  inquire  if  they  were 
suffering  for  a  fight,  to  blackguard  them,  and 


198  AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE. 

sometimes  to  snatch  off  their  caps  to  shy  them 
under  the  wheels  of  passing  vehicles.  Suddenly 
we  came  upon  a  toy-seller  surrounded  by  a  group 
of  smiling  people.  Pinkey  edged  in,  and  I  fol 
lowed.  The  prettiest  child  you  ever  saw,  a  girl 
four  or  five  years  old,  was  crowing  and  laughing 
in  mad  delight  over  a  strutting  tin  ostrich  drawing 
the  accustomed  green  man  and  red  cart.  Her  joy 
was  so  hilarious  a  crowd  of  smiling  people  had 
stopped  to  share  it. 

"Oh,  mamma,  I  want  it!"  she  exclaimed,  at 
last,  and  she  grabbed  up  the  toy  and  hugged  it  to 
her  bosom  in  an  ecstasy  of  happiness.  A  woman, 
very  poorly,  but  carefully,  dressed,  answered,  in  a 
low  voice,  in  which  there  was  sadness :  "  Come, 
Dorothy,  mamma  won't  buy  it  now;  some  other 
clay."  * 

"But,  mamma,  I  love  it.  Please  dive  it  to 
Do'thy." 

The  woman  took  from  a  very  small  purse  a 
dime  and  offered  it  to  the  vender. 

"Dem  walking-toys  is  two-bits,"  the  boy  said, 
with  scorn. 

The  woman  replaced  the  coin,  flushed  slightly, 
and,  taking  the  child's  hand,  said:  "Come,  Dor 
othy,  put  down  the  toy.  We'll  buy  something 
else,  pretty." 


AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE.  199 

Dorothy's  eyes  filled  and  her  lips  trembled. 
"  Nofing  else  is  so  booful,"  she  said,  and,  putting 
down  the  toy,  walked  away  with  her  mother, 
choking,  but  grittily  silent. 

Pinkey  and  I  followed  them.  It  was  several 
blocks  before  they  turned  into  a  quieter  side-street, 
and  then  Pinkey  overtook  them.  "Here,  little 
girl,  dis  is  fer  j'ouse,"  said  Pinkey,  producing  the 
toy  he  had  sequestered.  The  child  uttered  a  cry 
of  delight,  and  had  the  toy  in  her  arms  in  an 
instant. 

"I — I  cannot  buy  it.  I  am  sorry,"  the  mother 
sai  d . 

"'Tain't  fer  sale,"  replied  Pinkey.  "It's  a 
Christmas  present." 

"  You  are  a  very  kind  boy,"  the  la.dy  said,  smil 
ing  sweetly;  "but  my  little  girl  must  net  take 
your  toy." 

The  situation  was  becoming  involved  and  set 
about  with  social  complexities  which  were  too  in 
tricate  for  Pinkey's  primitive  understanding.  He 
looked  a  puzzled  moment  at  the  woman,  grinned 
very  good-naturedly  at  the  child,  and  then,  with 
startling  suddenness,  turned  and  ran  as  if  for  his 
life.  I  lost  him  then,  for  he  turned  like  a  rabbit 
at  the  first  corner.  Having  devoted  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  in  a  profitless  but  pleasing  study  of 


200  AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE. 

Finkey,  I  found  myself  just  that  much  late  for  an 
engagement  at  my  club,  and  hurried  there,  mak 
ing  up  a  proper  excuse  as  I  went.  Just  as  I 
reached  the  street  entrance,  I  was  overtaken  by 
the  man  my  engagement  was  with,  who  said: 
"You  got  my  note,  then?" 

"Your  note?" 

"  I  sent  one  here  an  hour  ago,  saying  I  should  be 
detained.  Heavens !  what  a  racket !" 

Down  the  street  surged  a  mob  of  men  and  boys 
of  all  conditions,  surrounding  two  fighting  dogs. 
Nearest  the  fighters  was  Pinkey,  and  over  all  the 
other  noises  came  his  voice: 

"  Leave  'em  alone,  I  soy !  Dey  're  even  match, 
even  weight.  Let  'em  fight !" 

A  policeman  irrupted,  and  as  a  preliminary 
means  of  securing  peace,  aimed  a  kick  at  Pinkey. 
He  avoided  the  kick  neatly,  so  as  to  let  it  land 
on  an  inoffensive  old  gentleman,  and  squirming 
out  of  the  crowd,  to  my  surprise,  darted  toward 
me. 

"  Here  comes  the  very  boy  I  gave  the  note  to. 
Here,  you  young  brat!  Didn't  I  give  you  a  note 
an  hour  ago  to  deliver  at  this  club?"  Not  for  any 
space  of  a  second  was  Pinkey  embarrassed. 

"Yes,  sir;  but  I'm  sorry,  sir,  dere  was  a  run 
away  an' " 


AN  IMMORAL  PROVIDENCE.  201 

"And  you  were  killed,  I  suppose,"  interrupted 
my  friend. 

"  No,  sir.  It  happened  to  be  me  poor  old  father, 
sir.  His  legs  was  broken,  sir,  and  I  had  to  tell  the 
ambulance- driver  where  to  take  him,  sir." 

"  If  the  little  beggar's  father  was  really  run 
over,  I'd  better  give  him  a  dollar,"  said  my  friend, 
who  is  sympathetic  and  credulous. 

"Give  him  a  dollar,  anyhow,"  I  suggested. 


THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE. 


\TR.  DUNNIGAN  stopped  before  the  wretchedest 
tenement  of  the  poorest  street  in  the  Latin 
Quarter  of  San  Francisco.  He  pulled  from  his 
pocket  a  folded  wad  of  brown  copy-paper,  glanced 
at  some  pencilled  figures,  and  entered  the  house. 
In  the  hall  he  met  a  police  officer  whom  he  saluted 
familiarly,  and  then  asked  :  "  Which  room,  Dan?" 

"  It's  up  three  flights.  The  women  will  show 
you  the  room." 

In  the  crowd  of  excited  women  on  the  third 
floor,  Dunnigan  found  one  who  could  speak  enough 
English  to  answer  his  questions. 

He  was  on  a  criminal  case — an  ordinary  one, 
he  thought — and  soon  learned  all  he  wanted  to 
know  that  the  woman  could  tell.  Then  he  entered 
the  room  to  make  a  diagram  for  an  illustration. 
There  was  little  to  note :  a  bed  in  one  corner,  in 
another  a  table  on  which  were  some  bread,  an 
empty  beer-can,  and  a  violin-case.  The  latter 
Dunnigan  examined. 

The  woman,  bis  informant,  explained:  "She 
play-a  da  piano,  an'  da  man  who  kill-a  her  play-a 

da  violin  in  da  dance- a  place." 
205 


206  THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE. 

Then  Dunnigan  went  out  into  the  street  and  was 
surprised  to  meet  Mr.  Patterson,  evidently  looking 
for  the  same  house. 

"Ain't  you  off  your  beat,  Patsy?" 

"  Don't  know  yet.  Are  you  working  on  this 
countess-killing?" 

"Yes;  but  I  didn't  think  the  story  was  big 
enough  to  attract  special  writers.  What  is  there 
in  it  to  bring  you  here?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Wasn't  this  countess  some 
kind  of  character- about-town  once?" 

Dunnigan  and  Patterson  were  the  best  of 
friends,  but  it  was  their  business  to  be  watchful  of 
each  other  when  they  met  on  the  same  story. 

"  Never  heard  of  her  except  when  she  has  been 
brought  in  for  drunk  and  disorderly,"  answered 
Dunnigan,  cautiously;  and  then  suddenly  he 
exclaimed :  "  There's  that  blooming  kid !" 

This  explosive  reference  concerned  Mr.  Tommy 
Paget,  manifestly  following  a  messenger-boy,  who 
was  carrying  a  beautiful  basket  of  flowers. 

Mr.  Paget  was  closely  pressed  by  a  small  army 
of  street  fry — ugly,  dirty,  ragged,  thievish,  and, 
as  their  numbers  increased,  belligerent. 

The  unusual  sight,  in  their  haunts,  of  a  uni 
formed  messenger  and  costly  flowers  had  excited 
this  uprising,  and  although  Tommy's  cane  had 


THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE.  207 

prevented  the  pillage  of  the  flowers,  he  was  relieved 
when  he  caught  sight  of  his  friends. 

The  scared  messenger  hurried  to  the  police 
officer:  "Dis  bokay  is  fer  de  murdered  lady,"  he 
gasped. 

"  She's  at  the  morgue,"  the  officer  replied. 

The  boy  looked  at  his  tormentors,  and  then  at 
the  flowers,  so  hopelessly,  that  the  officer  added; 
"  But  you  can  leave  the  flowers  upstairs.  The 
lady  will  be  brought  back  after  the  inquest." 

The  incident,  of  course,  attracted  the  close  atten 
tion  of  the  newspaper  men. 

Tommy  Paget  called  Dunnigan  aside — they 
worked  on  the  same  paper — and  whispered  to  him 
out  of  the  hearing  of  Patterson :  "  I  happened  to 
be  passing  the  Quarter  and  saw  the  messenger 
make  for  this  horrible  hole  with  those  flowers.  I 
knew  there  must  be  some  sort  of  story,  so  I  fol 
lowed  the  boy." 

"  You'll  make  a  criminal-news  detective,  some 
time,"  growled  Dunnigan,  good-naturedly. 

Patterson  waited  for  the  messenger  to  reappear, 
and  started  to  follow,  when  Dunnigan  called  to 
him : 

"  Say,  Patsy,  of  course  there's  a  story  in-  those 
flowers;  but  Tommy's  close  on  that.  So  you  work 
up  what  else  you  are  on  to,  Tommy  will  dig  up 


208  THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE. 

the  flowers  story,  and  I'll  finish  the  police  end  of 
it.  We  can  exchange  at  dinner,  as  there's  no 
chance  of  a  scoop  now." 

This  was  agreed  to,  and  the  three  men,  escort 
ing  the  messenger,  walked  back  through  the 
Quarter  into  civilization,  and  separated  on  their 
work. 

They  dined  at  Jacques',  one  of  the  little  res 
taurants  down  by  the  newspaper  shops.  What  if 
the  claret  is  petit  bleu?  It  is  plentiful  and  makes 
glad  the  heart.  If  the  carpet  is  wine-soaked  saw 
dust,  there  need  be  less  heed  about  lighted  ciga 
rettes.  And  Jacques  can  cook. 

Mr.  Lynn  joined  the  party.  He  was  dispirited, 
and  attacked  the  petit  bleu  vigorously. 

"Did  you  play  the  losing  middleweight  last 
night?"  asked  Dunnigan,  sympathetically. 

Lynn  sighed,  and  swallowed  a  tumbler  of  petit 
bleu. 

"Oi  played  the  winner,  Dunni,"  he  said;  "but 
wealth  bej'ond  the  dreams  av  avarice — beyond  me 
score  at  Morman's — could  bring  me  no  joy  this 
day.  The  woman  whose  fair  hands  gave  me  me 
first  dinner  in  San  Francisco,  whose  sweet  voice 
first  gave  hope  to  me  dispondent  heart,  the  Coun 
tess  von  Hoefel — 

"  Oh,   then  you   have  the   introduction   to  the 


THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE.      209 

story !  That  makes  it  complete.  Go  ahead !"  inter 
rupted  Patsy. 

Lynn  looked  surprised  at  this  business-like  re 
sponse  to  his  rhapsody,  but  soon  saw  the  situation 
and  resumed : 

"  It  was  in  the  seventies — the  bubbling,  brilliant, 
bullion,  bonanza  days — when  Oi,  a  youngster, 
broke,  but  hopeful,  landed  here.  The  very  day 
after  mo  arrival,  Oi  presinted  a  letter  to  a  shport- 
ing  gentleman — an  ould-country  frind  av  me 
father's — and  he  asked  me  out  to  the  races  wid 
him.  Oi'd  rather  he'd  asked  me  to  breakfast;  but 
next  to  eating,  racing  goes. 

"The  two-year-oulds  were  not  great  in  those 
days,  but  the  crowds  that  wint  to  see  them  were. 
The  price  av  as  many  bottles  as  he  could  drink 
was  in  every  man's  pocket — except  poor  Terence 
Lynn's. 

"  The  infield  was  as  pretty  a  sight  as  you'd 
wish  to  see.  Near  where  me  frind  shtopped  his 
team,  on  the  infield,  was  a  dainty  little  victoria, 
wid  a  stylish  pair  av  grays — 'twas  the  fashion 
thin — and  around  it  the  jolliest  crowd  in  all  the 
field. 

"'It's  the  Countess  von  Hoefel,'  says  me  frind; 
'Oi'll  presint  you.' 

"  We  walked  over  to  the  victoria  and  edged  our 


210  THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE. 

way  to  its  side;  but  when  me  frind  had  shpoken  to 
her,  she  suddenly  looked  at  me,  and  cried  out: 
'Terence  Lynn!  Don't  you  know  me?' 

"  Oi  cried  back:  'Shure,  if  you  wasn't  the  Coun 
tess  von  Hoefel,  you'd  be  Nora  Dolan !' 

"At  that  she  led  the  crowd  in  a  laugh,  and  then 
threw  her  arms  around  me  neck  and  kissed  me 
square  on  the  mouth. 

"  'You're  a  divil !'  says  she. 

"'Oi'm  a  beggar,'  says  Oi. 

"She  shtopped  laughing,  and,  looking  at  me 
earnestly,  says:  'Are  you  well  in  the  wurruld, 
Terence  Lynn?' 

"'Never better  in  me  loife,'  says  Oi;  'for  wid  a 
pretty  woman's  hand  on  me  shoulder,  and  her  sweet 
eyes  laughing  and  crying  at  me,  how  could  Oi 
be  better?' 

"  Oi  now  found  meself  as  much  stared  at  by  the 
swells  as  was  Nora  herself,  and  one  ould  chap 
glowering  at  me  in  tragedy  style.  Nora  saw  it, 
too,  and,  wid  a  little  wink  at  me,  made  me  step 
into  the  victoria  wid  her,  when  she  introduced  me 
to  a  dozen  av  her  gallants. 

"'He's  the  boy,'  she  would  say.  'Terence 
Lynn's  the  boy  who  led  the  crowd  that  dragged 
me  carriage  to  the  hotel  the  night  I  made  me 
debut  as  Belle  Helene  in  Dublin.' 


THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE.  211 

"'Son  of  the  gentleman  Oi've  heard  you  speak 
av  so  often,'  says  the  scowling  old  man,  trying 
hard  to  be  polite. 

"'The  same,'  says  Nora,  wid  her  color  high; 
'you'll  dine  wid  me  this  night,  Terence  Lynn!' 

'"But  Oi'm  wid  a  fiind,'  says  Oi. 

"'And  your  frind,  too.  Any  frind  av  your 
father's  son  dines  wid  me  when  Oi  order  the  din 
ner.  We'll  all  drive  down  to  your  place,'  she 
says  to  the  scowler,  'so  go  over  and  telegraph 
orders.  Oi'll  not  play  this  night.' 

"  He  went.  Oi  noticed  that  any  one  about  her 
was  glad  to  get  an  order  to  do  anything  for  her — 
whether  to  place  a  thousand  on  her  choice  in  the 
races  or  open  wine  and  serve  sandwiches. 

"  But  me  story's  long.  It  was  her  influence  put 
me  on  the  papers  at  once,  and  to  her  Oi  traced 
many  a  kindness  to  Terence  Lynn.  To  many  a 
struggling  Bohemian — some  av  them  up  in  the 
wurruld  now — Nora  Dolan  did  favors,  sending 
buyers  for  pictures,  and  what  not. 

"  In  the  two  years  Oi  was  in  Washington,  Oi 
lost  track  av  her.  To-day,  in  the  office,  while 
writing  up  the  entries  for  the  spring  meeting,  Oi 
overheard  the  boys  saying  that  the  poor  creature 
murdered  to-day  was,  in  fact,  the  Countess  von 
Hoefel." 


212  THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE. 

"Yours  is  the  next  chapter,  Patsy,"  said  Dun- 
nigan,  turning  to  Patterson. 

"It  appears,"  began  Patterson,  "that  the 
sprightly  portion  of  the  existence  of  the  late  Coun 
tess  von  Hoefel,  nee  Dolan,  had  that  meteoric 
flight  which,  somehow,  in  this  selfish  world, 
seems,  sadly  enough,  to  distinguish  the  line  of 
progress  indicated  by  Lynn's  story. 

"  There  was,  in  fact,  a  genuine  Count  von  Hoe 
fel,  who  deemed  it  not  incompatible  with  his  rank 
and  dignity  to  permit  the  countess  to  pay  his  ex 
penses  from  her  earnings  as  an  opera-bouffe  star. 

"  The  countess,  in  those  golden  days,  had  many 
admirers  whose  consideration  for  her  greater  com 
fort  prompted  their  generosity  to  the  extent  of  her 
entire  maintenance  in  leisure. 

"The  count  departed;  his  regret  at  his  wife's 
inattention  to  her  professional  career  assuaged  by 
a  check  from — I  easily  identify  him — the  man 
who  scowled  at  Lynn. 

"  When  her  richest  patron  suddenly  departed 
this  life,  it  so  happened  that  many  of  her  other 
friends  were  in  such  financial  stress  that  she  was 
compelled  to  accept  engagements  in  the  small 
theatres.  She  tried  to  regain  her  old  position  on 
the  stage,  but  j^ears'  absence,  and  a  life  in  which 
a  natural  aptitude  for  wine  had  had  rare  oppor- 


THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE.      213 

tunities  for  development,  made  managers  cautious, 
and  la  belle  comtesse  was  soon  below  the  surface, 
singing  ballads  in  unnamed  theatres.  Her  exact 
career  is  difficult  to  follow:  she  sang  under  as 
sumed  names,  and  the  'countess'  was  supposed  to 
be  merely  a  playful  nickname  by  the  lowly  asso 
ciates  I  have  interviewed  this  afternoon.  My 
investigation  carried  me,  at  last,  to  the  under 
ground  concert-halls,  whose  stars  are  not  in  the 
astronomers'  books  because  of  the  absence  in  those 
halls  of  printed  programmes.  But  even  from  that 
career  she  disappeared,  the  one  last  note  of  her 
voice  having  succumbed  to  a  persistent  attack  of 
rum. 

"Now,  Dunni,  if  you  will  kindly  give  us  your 
end  of  the  story,  we  shall  soon  have  the  lady  com 
fortably  and  finally  located  in  the  morgue." 

"Well,  as  I  told  you,"  said  Dunnigan,  "I  knew 
of  her  as  a  woman  I  chanced  to  see  brought  in 
once  in  a  while — never  enough  for  an  item — as  a 
'drunk  and  disorderly.'  Sometimes  she  was 
brought  in  with  her  consort,  a  man  known  as 
'Piano  Charley,'  and  of  late  he  has  fyrnished  an 
occasional  item — being  brought  in  for  beating  her. 

"  They  lived  in  the  room  we  saw  to-day.  They 
played — she  the  piano,  he  the  violin — in  a  sailors' 
dance -cellar. 


214  THE  LADY  AT  THE  MORGUE. 

"  There  is  little  in  my  end  of  the  story.  He  was 
drunker  than  usual  last  night,  and  not  knowing 
when  he  had  kicked  her  enough,  kicked  her  to 
death." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Patterson,  when  Dunnigan 
finished,  "Tommy  was  to  dig  up  the  story  of  the 
flowers.  Did  you  bribe  the  florist's  boy  to  give 
the  name  of  the  man  who  ordered  the  flowers  for 
the  countess,  Tommy?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  what's  choking  you?  What's  the  man's 
name?" 

"  Terence  Lynn." 


THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY. 


TT  is  not  probable  that  Casey  knew  he  was  well 
born.  If  he  did,  he  concealed  the  knowledge 
with  a  clever  appreciation  of  what  discomforts  the 
fact,  if  known,  would  impose  upon  him,  for  he  was 
a  sly  dog.  But  it  is  probable  that  he  knew  nothing 
of  his  high  birth,  just  as  he  thought  nothing  of  his 
seeming  low  birth ;  for  the  question  of  life — mere 
existence — was  so  ever-present  and  tremendous 
with  him  that  its  continuance  was  of  much  more 
concern  than  its  origin.  Blood  may  tell,  but  in 
the  case  of  Casey  it  told  nothing  to  his  credit.  He 
was  just  as  disreputable,  homeless,  tagless,  and 
thievish  as  any  of  the  companions  with  whom  he 
marauded,  quarrelled,  and  struggled  for  mainte 
nance. 

Casey  had  fallen  from  the  high  and  comfortable 
state  to  which  he  was  born  through  no  fault  for 
which  he  was  responsible,  but  owing  to  the  ver 
dict  passed  upon  him  by  the  coachman  and  gar 
dener  that  he  was  a  "runt."  At  the  time  this 
terrible  verdict  had  been  given,  Casey  (then  known 
to  his  aristocratic  circle  as  "Rollo")  was  feeding 

on  the  milk  and  bread  of  Plenty,  without  other 
217 


218         THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY. 

clouds  in  the  summer  sky  of  his  young  existence 
than  such  as  were  caused  by  the  depressing  knowl 
edge  that  every  one  of  his  brothers  and  sisters  could 
thrash  him  with  ease — and  did  so  with  frequency. 

It  was  partly  this  fact,  observed  by  the  coach 
man  and  gardener,  and  partly  a  whimsical  mark 
over  his  eyes,  which  decided  Casej^'s  fate.  The 
sentence  was :  Death  by  drowning ! 

The  coachman  was  appointed  executioner,  and, 
to  his  credit,  accepted  the  task  with  regret,  for 
Casey,  though  small  for  his  four  months  and  lack 
ing  in  beauty,  being  scarred  with  much  disastrous 
war,  was  as  plucky  as  any  one  of  the  litter.  The 
housekeeper  decided  against  a  pail  of  water  in  the 
barn  as  the  means  of  Casey's  taking  off,  for, 
although  admitted  to  be  simple  and  convenient, 
as  urged  by  the  executioner,  the  story  would  be  a 
sad  one  to  relate  to  young  Master  Francis  upon 
his  return.  "  He  must  be  lost  /"  concluded  the  good 
woman  significantly;  "taken  to  the  water-front 
and  lost  r 

Casey's  mother  and  father  were  recorded  in  the 
Kennel  books,  by  number,  name,  and  pedigree,  as 
the  two  best-bred  fox-terriers  in  America,  so  there 
must  be  some  pride  of  birth  lacking  in  runts,  or 
Casey  would  have  shrunk  instinctively  when  he 
found  himself  in  the  company  of  two  young  men 


THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY.          219 

who  were  engaged  in  concealing  stolen  scrap-iron 
under  a  wharf,  when  disturbed  by  Casey's  splash 
ing  in  the  cold  water  of  the  bay  by  their  very  side. 
His  indignation  at  the  coachman  for  throwing 
him  into  such  unpleasant  water  may  have  had 
something — even  much — to  do  with  his  absence  of 
all  haughtiness  and  restraint  in  the  presence  of 
low  companions.  After  being  fished  out  of  the 
bay  by  one  of  the  young  men,  and  having  his 
mouth  held  close  to  prevent  his  yelping — which 
might  have  attracted  police  attention — Casey  at 
once  fraternized  with  his  new  friends  in  a  manner 
which  showed,  as  before  suggested,  a  total  absence 
of  pride  of  birth. 

Casey  was  too  young  to  be  guided  by  the  great 
moral  truth  that  personal  comfort — yea,  safety— 
gained  by  the  sacrifice  of  any  principle,  especially 
so  sustaining  a  one  as  pride  of  birth,  are  but  giddy 
and  unsure.  Finding  that  his  choice  of  con 
ditions  lay  between  remaining  quiet  and  alive,  or 
yelping  disapproval  of  his  environment  and  get 
ting  drowned  for  it,  Casey  curled  up  on  a  coat, 
wagged  his  tail,  shivered,  and  held  his  peace. 
Casey,  it  has  been  said,  was  young,  and  consid 
ered  the  conditions  entirely  outside  of  their  ethical 
relations;  his  untaught  mind  accepted  comfortable 
existence,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  principle,  as  pos- 


2'20         THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY. 

sessing  advantages  over  non-existence  under  any 
circumstances,  if  there  be  circumstances  relating  to 
non-existence. 

The  task  of  concealing  their  plunder  among  the 
sea-wall  rocks,  to  which  the  thieves'  boat  was 
fastened,  proceeded  without  interruption  until  one 
of  the  thieves — a  pleasant-faced  lad — noticed 
Casey  shivering  so  that  he  seemed  to  be  about  to 
shiver  himself  out  of  the  world.  The  boy  grabbed 
up  Casey,  clambered  along  the  rocks  until  he  came 
to  one  side  of  a  pier  running  out  from  the  wharf, 
looked  about  cautiously,  saw  no  officer,  and  then 
carefully  tossed  the  dog  on  to  a  bale  of  bags  lying 
in  the  sun  on  the  pier. 

" Let  der  purp  dry  in  der  sun;  he  ain't  done  no 
harm,"  remarked  the  youth. 

His  kind  action  may  have  been  prompted  by  the 
pleasing  reflection  that  in  saving  Casey's  life  he 
was  preventing  what  some  one  had  considered  the 
performance  of  a  duty. 

The  work  beneath  the  wharf  again  proceeded  in 
silence,  and  Casey  slept  in  comfort  until  he  was 
dry,  and  warm,  and  hungry.  His  hunger  woke 
him;  but  his  first  impulse  to  proclaim  the  fact 
loudly  was  repressed  by  recollections  of  recent  ex 
perience.  Suddenly,  however,  he  did  begin  yelp 
ing  dismally,  persistently — so  persistently  that  his 


THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY.         221 

young  friend  glanced  cautiously  up  over  the  edge 
of  the  pier.  What  he  saw  made  him  snatch  Casey 
and  disappear  under  the  wharf,  with  a  warning 
whistle.  The  some  one  who  had  made  Casey  yelp 
and  his  friends  scurry  away  with  their  boat  under 
the  darkness  of  the  wharf  came  down  the  pier, 
looked  about,  shook  his  head,  and  said:  "Th' 
young  divils!  Ef  th'  pup  hadn't  barked  Oi'd  been 
un  to  'em." 

It  was  a  policeman,  and  because  of  his  long, 
blue  coat  and  brass  buttons  Casey  mistook  him  for 
the  coachman  returning  for  an  obvious  and  awful 
purpose. 

The  young  thieves  were  delighted  with  Casey ; 
he  had  repaid  their  service  to  him  in  kind.  He 
was  immediately  named  after  the  officer  whose 
approach  he  had  signaled,  and  fed,  and  made  to 
understand  that  he  deserved  well.  The  aptitude 
he  displayed  for  the  training  he  was  given  showed 
he  comprehended  that  his  duty  in  life  was  to  give 
his  companions  prompt  warning  of  any  threatened 
interruption,  and  to  keep  an  especial  lookout  at  all 
times  for  men  in  brass  buttons  and  long,  blue 
coats.  Before  he  was  a  year  old,  Casey  was 
known  along  the  water-front,  from  Black  Point  to 
Mission  Rock,  as  a  more  reliable  lookout  than  any 
boy,  and,  of  course,  possessed  of  the  additional  ad- 


222         THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY. 

vantage  of  not  being  counted  in  when  the  results 
of  a  day's — or  night's — work  were  being  divided. 
Yet  Casey's  was  a  hard  life.  He  was  not  always 
even  fed,  and  seldom  sheltered,  by  his  associates. 
Sometimes  they  disappeared  for  weeks  at  a  time, 
when  Casey  would  steal  his  meals,  beg  them  from 
the  wharf  laborers  at  lunch  time,  or  go  hungry. 
His  recollections  of  a  time  when  he  always  had 
plenty  to  eat  and  a  comfortable  bed  were  growing 
dim,  and  might  have  disappeared  entirely  had  he 
not  been  taken  one  day  a  long  distance  from  the 
water-front  with  one  of  his  young  companions  and 
a  man  he  had  frequently  seen  but  never  operated 
with.  Case}'  felt  proud  of  his  company;  he  knew 
instinctively  that  his  sphere  of  usefulness  was 
about  to  be  enlarged,  and  grander  opportunities 
afforded  him  for  the  display  of  those  talents  for 
which  he  was  justly  renowned. 

After  a  deal  of  walking  over  hills,  the  trio 
stopped  near  some  large  grounds  enclosing  a  hand 
some  house  and  stable.  The  man  first  approached 
and  applied  for  work  at  the  kitchen-door.  He 
took  the  servant's  refusal  coolly,  and  made  leis 
urely  observations  before  he  rejoined  his  confeder 
ates.  Then  the  boy,  with  Casey  at  his  heels,  went 
to  the  kitchen-door  and  begged  for  something  to 
eat.  He  got  it  and  made  his  observations,  also. 


THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY.        223 

Casey  was  curiously  affected  by  what  he  saw. 
He,  too,  appeared  to  be  making  observations,  and 
all  the  way  back  to  the  water-front  was  so  pre 
occupied  in  mind  that  he  narrowly  escaped  being 
run  over  half  a  dozen  times,  a  carelessness  which 
earned  him  several  hearty  kicks  from  the  man. 

In  view  of  Casey's  career,  it  is  probable  that  his 
subsequent  actions  were  as  much  prompted  by  a 
desire  to  revenge  those  kicks  and  other  slights  and 
insults  as  by  any  worthier  motive. 

Late  that  night  the  same  trio  walked  to  the  big 
house  over  the  hills. 

Before  they  started  out  the  man  and  boy  ate  a 
big  supper  and  had  plenty  to  drink,  but  Casey 
went  hungry. 

It  was  so  dark  and  foggy  that  Casey  had  some 
trouble  to  recall  the  exact  lay  of  the  ground  after 
the  boy  had  entered  the  house  through  a  window 
and  the  man  through  the  kitchen-door,  opened  by 
the  boy.  Casey  was  cold,  sore  from  the  kicking, 
and  hungry.  He  had  been  doing  some  hard  think 
ing,  and  when  everything  was  quiet  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  house,  he  suddenly  arrived  at  a 
conclusion,  which  may  be  attributed,  according 
as  you  judge  Casey,  to  a  quickened  conscience,  or 
a  desire  for  food,  shelter,  and  such  tokens  of  regard 
as  are  not  expressed  by  hobnailed  shoes.  He  stole 


224         THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY. 

softly  around  to  the  carriage-doors  of  the  barn  and 
found  a  small  entrance  cut  out  of  the  bottom. 
Then  Casey  knew  he  had  not  been  dreaming  that 
afternoon,  as  he  was  half  afraid  might  be  the  case. 
He  found  his  way — easily  enough  now — to  the 
coachman's  room  upstairs.  When  that  amazed 
man  had  responded  to  Casey's  persistent  tugging 
at  the  bedclothes  and  made  a  light,  he  was  a  lit 
tle  frightened  to  identify  his  awakener  as  the  runt 
he  supposed  he  had  drowned:  there  was  no  mis 
taking  that  curious  marking  over  the  eyes !  Casey 
had  little  difficulty  in  urging  the  coachman  to  a 
quiet  inspection  of  the  kitchen-door  and  window, 
and  then  waited  contentedly  when  the  coachman 
as  quietly  departed  for  help.  When  it  came — two 
officers — Casey  signalled  his  companions  inside  the 
house  with  a  yelping  which  had  a  suggestion  of  a 
joke  in  it;  and  when  his  companions  ran  plump 
into  the  officers'  arms  and  were  nicely  handcuffed 
together,  the  joke  seemed  to  strike  Casey  with 
fresh  force,  for  his  barking  was  unmistakably  joy 
ful,  and  it  broke  into  a  very  hysteria  of  mirth 
when  the  aroused  housekeeper  caught  him  in  her 
irms  and  exclaimed :  "  Lord  love  us !  it's  Hollo !" 

Casey's  hard  experience  in  fighting  for  life  on 
the  water-front  gives  him  an  advantage  in  war 
fare  which  he  turns  to  sweet  purposes.  He  not 


THE  REHABILITATION  OF  CASEY.         225 

only  frequently  thrashes  his  brothers  and  sisters 
for  the  slightest  lapses  from  conduct  denoting  a 
proper  pride  of  birth,  but  occasionally  whips  his 
father  and  mother  if  he  notices  any  inclination  on 
their  part  to  neglect  those  marks  of  respect  due  to 
his  own  unselfish  and  noble  performance. 


ANDRE  WAS  FRESH. 

AN  INCIDENT  IN  THE  CAKEEK  OF  MAKY  HENNESSY. 


"  4  NDRE  is  too  fresh." 

This  criticism  was  crisply  made  by  Mary, 
after  several  vain  attempts  to  blow  an  arrow  of 
smoke  through  a  ring  which  had  preceded  the 
arrow  from  her  pouting  lips. 

Every  one  in  the  party  had  been  lazily  absorbed 
in  the  ring-and-arrow  experiment ;  not. that  it  was 
new,  but  the  occasion  was  that  listless  half-hour 
after  dinner  when  any  careless  diversion  is  wel 
come.  So  no  one  replied  to  the  remark  about 
Andre  until  John's  failure  to  induce  a  raisin  to 
encrust  itself  with  rubies  in  a  glass  of  claret,  as  it 
will  with  diamonds  in  a  glass  of  champagne. 

This  afforded  a  chance  for  Frank ;  and,  in  fact, 
he  appeared  to  be  particularly  interested  in  Mary's 
remark. 

"  Andre  is  the  best  waiter  in  the  Cafe  d'Or,"  he 
said. 

"Andre,"  repeated  Mary,  beckoning  to  John  for 
a  fresh  cigarette,  "is  too  fresh." 

As  there  was  something  incisive  in  her  tone, 
something  which  suggested  a  piquant  reason  for 
the  comment,  the  party  showed  a  willingness  to 


230  AND&£  WAS  FRESff. 

hear  more,  and  did  not  notice  a  special  eagerness 
in  the  interest  of  Frank  and  Sarah. 

Mary's  stories  always  interested  her  set.  She 
made  more  frequent  excursions  into  the  outer 
world  than  did  her  companions,  and  they  heard 
her  experiences  without  envy  and  with  profit. 
Some  of  them  wrote  up  her  stories  into  sketches 
and  sold  them ;  some  of  them  got  ideas  for  illus 
trations  from  the  same  lively  source;  but  this 
graceless  stealing  of  her  material  displeased  her 
not  at  all— ^he  ate,  and  drank,  and  smoked  the 
proceeds  of  the  stories  and  pictures,  and  remained 
the  pet  of  the  party. 

Mary  is — but  I  cannot  describe  her.  You,  dear 
reader,  have  not  a  dictionary  of  the  newspaper- 
shop  and  studio  slang  in  which  alone  I  have  heard 
her  praises  sung,  and  the  language  would  convey 
but  meagre  meaning  to  your  unused  ear.  It  is 
enough  to  say,  for  this  short  acquaintance,  that 

"  She  dresses  herself  in  her  showy  fal-lals, 
And  doesn't  read  Tupper  a  bit. " 

She  dresses  herself  to  pose  for  her  friends,  the 
artists ;  she  reads  what  the  scribbling  friends  write 
— and  thinks  it  monstrous  clever. 

After  the  north  light  has  faded  from  the  studios, 
and  before  the  electric-light  draws  its  reluctant 


ANDRE  WAS  FRESH.  231 

moths  into  the  newspaper  shops,  she  and  her  set 
dine  in  a  droll  little  restaurant  with  sawdust 
floors,  strangely  mixed  company — and  a  cook  who 
shall  have  an  obituary  which  will  make  the  angels 
turn  green  with  envy,  if  I  outlive  him  and  his 
sauces ! 

Mary  took  her  cigarette,  and  as  she  plucked  the 
redundant  weed  from  one  end,  Frank  said : 

"  Well,  what's  Andre  been  doing?" 

"As  you  know,  children,  I  did  not  dine  with 
you  last  night.  I — 

"  You  dined  with  that  unsufferable  Mortan !" 
suddenly  interrupted  John ;  "  I  might  have  known 
he  was  not  hanging  around  my  studio  for  art  alone 
when  you  were  posing  for — 

"  Posing  for  art  alone,  Johnnie,  as  you  have  not 
paid  me  last  week's  wages,  which  you  could  have 
done,  as  Mortan,  on  my  sweet  account,  paid  you 
your  own  price  for  that  Tamalpais  sketch." 

"Johnnie,  dear,"  lisped  Sarah,  "if  you  wilj 
kindly  keep  still  until  some  one  asks  you  to  speak, 
we  shall  have — er — ah — eh?" 

Sarah  did  not  finish  her  sentence — she  seldom 
does;  but  as  John  kept  still,  Mary  began  once 
more: 

"  Andre  is  too  fresh.  If  it  were  not  so,  the 
young  but  not  insufferable  Mr.  Mortan  would  still 


232  ANDRE   WAS  FRESH. 

cherish  in  me  his  ideal  of  a  sweet  young  thing, 
willing,  under  tremendous  pressure,  to  witness,  in 
timid  and  awe-struck  amaze,  his  terrific  plunges 
into  the  mad,  wicked  world ;  would  still  regard  me 
as  a  modest,  wayside  violet,  trembling  in  the  glar 
ing  flood  of  light  which  his,  er,  bold  and  naughty, 
er — what's  the  matter,  Sarah,  love?" 

Sarah  was  giggling,  and  Frank,  who  had  looked 
at  his  watch  several  times,  said : 

"  Just  boil  the  story,  Mary,  sweetheart.  I  must 
slide  to  the  shop,  soon ;  and  while  I  dote  on  you 
when  you  talk  grand,  you  never  arrive.  Now, 
Mortan  is  a  sweet,  inexperienced  boy,  recently 
afflicted  with  a  million.  He  met  you  in  John's 
studio  and  was  moved  with  the  commendable  im 
pulse  to  give  you  a  new  experience.  Go  on  from 
there." 

"When  I  am  worth  two  hundred  millions,"  re 
sumed  Mary,  icily,  "I  shall  buy  you,  Frankie, 
and  present  you  with  your  leisure,  so  that  conver 
sation  may  be  possible  in  your  company.  Well, 
we — Master  Mortan  and  I— went  to  the  Cafe  d'Or 
for  dinner.  I  feel  sure  I  looked  charmingly 
frightened  as  Andre  ushered  us  into  a  cabinet 
particulier.  But  Andre  started  in  to  'pi'  things 
at  the  very  start.  Mortan  held  a  chair  for  my 
fluttering  form  on  the  mirror  side  of  the  table; 


ANDRE  WAS  FRESH.  233 

Andre  pulled  out  the  opposite  chair,  with  the 
cheerful  remark,  'Mademoiselle  prefers  this  side.' 

"  Mortan  looked  a  trifle  queer,  but  proceeded  to 
order  dinner  in  a  kindergarten  manner,  which 
caused  Andre  to  favor  me  with  a  long,  solemn 
wink.  I  looked  back  with  my  well-known  haughty 
stare — the  one  I  practised  for  Johnnie's  picture, 
'Rejected' — but  it  ended  dismally,  for  just  then 
Mortan  ordered  a  sweet  wine.  Andre  nearly 
fainted,  but  did  not,  I  grieve  to  say.  Instead,  he 
murmured:  'And  for  mademoiselle?  Shall  I 
frappe  a  bottle  of  some  dry  brand?  She  can  not 
drink  sweet.'  I  dropped  my  haughty  look  and 
tried  a  beseeching  one,  but  Andre  appeared  to  be 
too  indignant  with  Mortan  to  notice  me — I  was 
not  in  it.  Neither  my  feelings  nor  the  general 
tone  of  the  situation  were  improved  by  Andre's 
next  effort.  I  had,  with  great  difficulty,  been 
prevailed  upon  to  try  just  one  cocktail  before  the 
dinner  began — merely  to  learn  what  they  were 
like,  urged  my  blase  vis-a-vis — and  when  the 
order  was  given,  Andre  asked  Morton  if  he  would 
have  a  dash  of  absinthe  in  his,  also.  Morton  ap 
peared  to  notice  the  fact  that  I  had  said  nothing 
about  a  dash  of  absinthe  in  mine,  and  Andre's 
also  made  Mortan  think — or  try  to." 

"Mary!"    broke   in   Sarah,  in   assumed  terror, 


234  ANDRti  WAS  FRESH. 

"  did  Andre  tell  Morton  that  you  never  eat  pota 
toes  or  sugar,  because  they  make  you  fat,  and  did 
he " 

"  Andre  was  so  thoughtful  as  to  give  both  those 
warnings,  Sarah;  but  how  did  you  guess?  He 
also  requested  Mortau  to  add  a  little  red  pepper 
and  lime  to  the  seasoning  of  my  fillet;  he  asked 
me  if  I  would  have  a  double  proportion  of  oil  in 
my  plain  salad-dressing,  'as  usual,'  and  made 
things  agreeable  for  me  in  my  ingenue  role  in  so 
many  cheerful  ways  that  his  faux  pas  seemed 
almost  inspired.  Poor  dear  Mr.  Mortan  was  quite 
bewildered ;  and  when  I  final!}'  consented  to  smoke 
just  one  cigarette,  gave  me  his  jewelled  case  with 
some  evident  doubt  whether  I  would  not  offer  him 
one  instead." 

"And  did  you,  sweetheart?"  asked  John. 

"  No ;  but  Andre,  when  he  passed  the  case,  saw 
that  it  contained  Cairos,  and  promptly  gave  me  a 
package  of  Virginias,  gallantly  explaining,  at  the 
time,  that  they  were  my  choice.  Even  that  might 
have  not  entirely  penetrated  Mortan 's  sweet  little 
head,  but  the  last  act  queered  me.  When  my  lux 
urious  host  rang  for  a  carriage  to  send  me  home 
in,  he  started  in  to  give  Andre  my  address.  Then 
that  most  extraordinary  waiter  bowed  suavely  and 
said:  'N'importe.  The  driver  will  know — ' 


ANDR&  WAS  FRESH.  235 

Sarah,  what  are  you  laughing  at?     The  story  is 
tragic!" 

"I  know,  dear;  but  Andre  did  so  well!  Frank 
and  I  were  in  the  next  cabinet  and  coached  Andre 
between  the  courses." 


"ME  SIDE  PARDNER." 

A  STORY  OF  A  SOUGHT-FOR  SCOOP. 


MR.  DUNNIGAN  was  smilingly  receiving  the 
congratulations  of  the  other  newspaper  men 
who  gathered  around  Mormaii's  supper-table.  He 
had  given  his  paper  a  sensational  scoop  that  morn 
ing,  and  every  man  who  congratulated  him  im 
mediately  asked : 

"  But  how  did  you  get  on,  Dunni?" 

"  I  got  on  to  the  story  by  accident,  and  that's 
how  nearly  every  scoop  is  brought  in,"  answered 
Dunnigan,  modestly. 

"  If  a  story  cornes  through  the  regular  channels, 
there's  no  chance  for  a  scoop,  and  the  newspaper 
men  who  go  about  looking  for  chance  stories  exist 
only  in  novels  written  by  men  who  don't  know  a 
detail-book  from  a  scare-head — barring  Tommy 
Paget,  here.  But  Tommy  is  not  a  newspaper  man 
—he's  a  journalist." 

"  More  power  to  him !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lynn ; 
"don't  moind  him,  Tommy.  Shure,  Dunni  is 
jealous  of  ye.  It's  the  young  gintlemen  loike  you 
who  are  elevating  the  profeshion,  and  the  old 
hacks  loike  Dunni  and  me  must  give  way  before 

the  hew  regime,  of  which  you  are  at  once  the 
239 


240  "ME  SIDE-PARDNER." 

ornament  and  pride.  A  glass  of  beer  wid  you, 
Tommy." 

Tommy,  who  by  this  time  was  flushing  slightly, 
turned  to  Patterson,  and  said  with  lofty  scorn : 

"  It's  your  turn,  Patsy,  to  score  me ;  jump 
in." 

"I'd  strike  bottom  too  quick,"  responded  Patsy. 

"Any  one  else  want  to  contribute?"  asked 
Tommy,  with  severe  politeness ;  "  if  not,  I'll  just 
remark  that  while  I  am  humbly  sensible  of  my 
sad  deficiencies  as  a  journalist,  which,  by  the 
way,  did  not  prevent  my  earning  more  on  space 
last  week  that  Mr.  Dunnigan  ever  got  as  a  salary, 
I  am  still  unwilling  to  admit  that  because  I  keep 
broke  by  retaining  a  membership  in  a  decent  club 
instead  of  by  playing  poker,  like  Dunni,  or  be 
cause  I  still  hold  on  to  some  decent  social  connec 
tions,  instead  of  totally  outcasting  myself,  as  all  of 
you  have,  I  am  unwilling,  I  say,  to  admit  that  I 
may  not  aspire  to  the  dizzy  professional  heights 
capped  by  that  group  of  graces,  Lynn,  Dunnigan, 
and  Patsy." 

Tommy  grew  redder  still  at  the  roar  of  laughter 
which  greeted  his  fine  speech,  and  glared  haughtily 
at  Lynn,  who  exclaimed : 

"  Get  out  of  th'  ring,  you  Dunni,  and  you  Patsy ! 
David  has  come  again,  and  I'm  his  prophet, 


"ME  SIDE-PARDNER."  241 

backer,  and  bottle-holder.  Bring  on  your  heavy 
weights.  Otto,  a  schooner  for  Mr.  Paget !" 

Tommy  continued  to  glare  at  his  grinning  friends 
for  a  time,  but  soon  joined  the  grin,  for,  though 
bristling  with  pugnacity,  there  was  no  one  in 
the  party  more  alive  than  Mr.  Paget  to  the  futility 
of  solitary  grandeur  in  a  company  of  average 
mortals. 

"I  was  about  to  remark,"  he  said,  with  recov 
ered  good-nature,  "before  you  all  brayed  at  me, 
that  Dunni  may  be  right  in  saying  that  most 
scoops  are  accidental;  but  sometimes  they  are 
looked  for.  You  remember  my  scoop  in  the  Mel 
bourne  Rest  robbery?" 

There  was  no  immediate  response.  It  is  prob 
able  that  every  one  at  the  table  did  recall;  but, 
then,  most  of  us  are  sluggish  in  remembering 
other  men's  scoops. 

"  Well,  I  did  get  that  scoop,  and  I  did  get  it  be 
cause  I  looked  for  it.  It  was  about  a  year  ago.  I 
had  been  doing  the  introduction  to  a  Patti  first- 
night,  and  was  in  evening-dress;  so  when  I  turned 
in  my  copy,  as  it  was  raining,  I  rang  for  a  coop. 
When  I  told  the  driver  to  take  me  up  here,  he  told 
me  there  was  to  be  a  quiet  chicken-fight  in  the 
Melbourne  Rest." 

"Oh,  Tommy,  break  away,"  interrupted  Dunni; 


242  "ME  SIDE-PARDNER." 

"  you  got  that  scoop  through  the  accident  of  ring 
ing  for  a  coop,  the  driver  of  which  happened  to 
be  on." 

"That's  so,"  admitted  Tommy,  somewhat  crest 
fallen;  "  I  was  put  on  by  an  accident." 

"They  won't  let  you  tell  your  story,  Tommy, 
but  I'll  prove  your  proposition  that  all  scoops  are 
not  accidental,"  said  Mr.  Patterson.  "Years  ago, 
I  lay  in  bed  one  morning,  reading  what  I  had 
written  the  night  before,  as  you  all  do  every  morn 
ing  of  your  lives,  gentlemen.  After  damning  the 
proofreading,  as  you  all  do,  and  admiring  my 
stuff,  which  still  shone  despite  the  efforts  of  a 
stupid  editor  to  take  the  shine  out — as  you  all  ad 
mire  yours — I  bethought  me  of  the  varied  uses  I 
could  make  of  the  additional  stipend  resulting  from 
a  scoop.  I  said,  'My  dear  Patterson,  pursue  the 
day's  doings  of  the  first  person  whose  identity  is 
jogged  into  your  life  this  day,  if  his  or  her  life  is 
open  to  inspection,  and  you  will  get  a  story.' 

"That  afternoon  I  met,  on  a  street-crossing,  a 
man  I  had  to  interview,  and  we  stood  where  we 
met  until  I  was  suddenly  nearly  knocked,  or 
pushed,  down.  When  I  recovered  my  usual  digni 
fied  bearing,  I  found  that  I  had  been  pushed  from 
in  front  of  a  runaway  team  by  a  very  bright,  ex 
ceedingly  self-possessed,  and  soiled  young  person, 


"ME  S1DE-PARDNER."  243 

who  drawled  out  between  puffs  of  a  cigarette, 
'Yer  chump,  did  yer  want  ter  get  killeded?' 

"  I  discovered  that  my  polite  and  efficient  friend 
was  a  newsboy  I  had  sometimes  'staked' — I  quote 
his  vernacular — at  early  hours  in  the  mornings, 
when  he  confided  to  me  that  his  game  of  'crusoe' 
had  resulted  in  breaking  him. 

"I  knew  him  only  as  'Pete,'  and  knew  him  so 
well  that  I  anticipated  his  next  remark :  'I'm  dead 
broke,  Mr.  Patterson,  an'  ain't  got  no  stake  fer  de 
evenin'  poipers.' 

"  I  staked  Pete,  and  took  him  to  a  clothier's, 
wrhere  I  had  credit,  and  furnished  him  with  a  suit 
of  clothes — which  he  called  a  harness — when  it 
occurred  to  me  that  he  was  the  person  I  should 
pursue  for  my  story. 

"  He  thanked  me  profusely  for  the  gift,  and  de 
clared  that  he  wanted  to  run  home  and  'show  de 
harness  to  me  mudder  an'  f adder. ' 

"  I  followed,  unobserved,  and  discovered  that  it 
was  to  another  relative  Pete  wanted  to  display  his 
fine  feathers,  for,  in  half  an  hour,  he  emerged  from 
a  pawnshop  dressed  in  his  old  suit  of  rags,  and 
with  four  dollars  of  his  uncle's  coin  in  his  pocket. 

"  I  felt  fairly  rewarded  for  my  pursuit,  and  con 
vinced  that  I  was  on  the  track  of  a  story,  if  not  a 
scoop. 


244  "ME  SIDE-PARDNER." 

"  Pete  made  a  bee-line  for  an  alley  back  of  an 
evening  newspaper  office,  where  I  observed  him 
lose  my  stake  and  his  uncle's  loan  in  the  varying 
fortunes  of  'crusoe,'  played  with  undaunted  cour 
age  but  poor  luck.  I  concluded,  in  the  wisdom  of 
experience,  that  I  could  then  afford  to  relax  my 
watch,  that,  if  left  alone,  Pete  would  soon  hunt 
me  up. 

"On  my  way  down  to  the  editorial  rooms,  after 
dinner,  Pete  waylaid  me.  'Me  f adder  broke  his 
leg  in  de  foundry,'  he  began,  "  an'  me  mudder  sent 
fer  de  doctor,  who  said  me  f  adder's  leg  could  rot 
before  he'd  touch  it,  'less  he  had  five  plunks  down 
in  advance,  de  snoozer!  So  I  ups  an'  shoves  de 
harness  wid  me  uncle,  an',  wid  wot  yer  staked 
me,  I  raised  de  five,  see?  An'  so  I'm  broke,  bein' 
a  good  boy,  an'  lovin'  me  mudder. ' 

"Thereupon,  Peter  wept  plentifully,  being  ex 
cited  with  his  efforts  of  the  imagination  and  lack 
of  dinner. 

"Then  I  took  my  potential  scoop  to  a  coffee 
house — 'a  bun-joint,'  in  his  slang — and  fed  him. 
In  the  honesty  begotten  of  a  full  stomach  and  con 
tented  mind,  Pete  confided  to  me  that  he  had  'no 
fadder,  nor  mudder,  nor  brudder,  nor  nothin','  but 
lived  in  the  'place'  of  his  'side-pardner.' 

"  Pete's  side-partner,  he  explained,  was  Glasgow 


"ME  SIDE-PARDNER."  245 

Jack,  the  keeper  of  a  slogging-den — a  kind  of  place, 
Tommy,  which  flourished  in  this  community  before 
the  promotion  of  slogging  was  made  the  vocation 
of  the  male  two  hundred. 

"  Glasgow  Jack's,  being  an  all-night  place,  was 
frequented  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  by 
men,  who,  having  the  drear  prospect  of  another 
day  close  at  hand,  sought  to  ameliorate  their  con 
ditions  by  that  forgetfulness  which  comes  from  an 
early  glance  at  a  morning  paper. 

"  Pete,  in  exchange  for  the  privilege  of  sleeping 
on  the  mattress  used  for  wrestling-matches,  brought 
the  earliest  papers  to  Glasgow  Jack's,  thereby 
holding  Jack's  customers,  to  the  profit  of  the  bar. 
It  seemed  a  fair  bargain,  as  Pete  explained  it,  but 
the  chances  for  a  scoop  were  not  improving. 

"  To  make  sure  of  my  game,  I  agreed  with  Pete 
to  stake  him  in  the  pressroom  as  soon  as  the  paper 
was  off,  and  we  parted. 

"  That  night  I  went  down  to  the  pressroom,  on 
the  elevator,  with  the  last  plate,  and  there  was 
Pete,  fighting,  with  science  and  success,  to  main 
tain  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  line  of  waiting 
newsboys,  all  anxious  to  get  bundles  for  the  all- 
night  places,  where  two-bits  is  often  picked  up  for 
an  early  paper. 

"  It  was  too  dark  to  follow  Pete,  so  I  told  him  I 


246  "ME  SIDE-PARDNER." 

had  a  notion  to  meet  his  'side-pardner, '  and  hurried 
along  with  him  to  Glasgow  Jack's. 

"  It  was  the  usual  place — you  remember  the  type, 
Dunni?  A  basement,  a  square  'ring'  in  one  end; 
some  dumb-bells  and  Indian  clubs  scattered  about, 
a  pool-table,  with  leaden  cushions,  a  half-dozen 
beery  card -tables,  a  bar,  and  a  patronage  of  pugs, 
low  rounders,  and  dreary  young  men  who  fancied 
they  were  seeing  life  by  poisoning  it. 

"  Pete's  advent  woke  up  the  place.  My  very 
considerable  knowledge  of  what  the  paper  con 
tained — I  had  watched  the  make-up — had  given 
me  no  impression  that  all  our  news  pertained  to 
fights  and  fighters,  racers  and  racing,  murders  and 
murderers.  The  crowd  there,  however,  found 
nothing  else  in  the  paper,  and  was  soon  expressing 
its  interest  in  those  phases  of  life  by  animated  dis 
cussions  of  them  over  the  most  unthinkable  whis 
key.  I  took  a  glass  of  it  with  Glasgow  Jack,  who 
treated  me  with  that  considerate — shall  I  say 
fraternal? — kindness  our  profession  ever  receives 
from  his. 

"Jack  laughed  when  I  asked  him  about  Pete. 
'I'm  kinder  stuck  on  der  kid,'  said  Jack;  'dere's 
no  flies  on  'im,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  do  der  right  thing 
by  him.  I  was  thinkin'  it  would  be  der  proper 
game  ter  give  der  kid  some  schoolin'.  He  kinder 


"ME  SIDE-PARDNER."  247 

takes  to  literary  ways — selling  papers,  and  that. 
I'm  doin'  pretty  well,  an'  ain't  got  nobody  wid  a 
string  on  me  sack,  so  I  was  thinkin'  mebbe  I  could 
send  der  kid  to  one  of  dem  schools  in  der  country, 
where  he'd  get  away  from  dis  gang  and  brace  up 
a  little,  and  be  a  lawyer,  or  somethin'.  He's 
kinder  got  ter  me,  yer  see,  and  I'm  sorter  soft  on 
der  kid.' 

"  I  knew  Glasgow  Jack  to  be  the  toughest  char 
acter  in  the  city;  but  just  the  way  all  the  villany 
went  out  of  his  wicked  eyes  when  he  spoke  of  Pete 
has  secured  him  a  graceful  epitaph — if  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  of  his  death. 

"  There  must  have  been  some  very  exciting  sport 
ing  news  that  night,  for  the  crowd  became  noisy 
and  drunk  in  discussing  it. 

"It  was  such  a  nasty  outfit  that  I  should  have 
left  before  Pete  returned,  but  I  had  resolved  to  see 
him  through  one  day.  When  he  did  return,  his 
papers  all  sold,  Jack  motioned  him  to  come  over 
to  us,  but  a  couple  of  men  at  an  adjoining  table 
stopped  the  boy,  and  one  of  them  offered  him  a 
drink  of  whiskey.  Jack  called  out:  'Let  go,  now ! 
You  know  I  don't  want  Pete  offered  any  drink. ' 

"  The  man  laughed  in  an  ugly  way,  and  replied : 
'You  are  getting  too  pious,  Jack.  If  the  kid's 
yours,  why  don't  you  say  so.  If  he  ain't,  don't  be 


248  "ME  SIDE-PARDNER." 

so  funny  about  him. '  The  man,  by  a  quick  grip, 
opened  Pete's  mouth  and  threw  some  whiskey 
in  it. 

"Jack  sprang  at  him  and  hit  him  before  he 
could  rise.  The  man's  pistol  was  whipped  out, 
and  he  pulled  with  a  dead  drop  on  Jack  but  just 
as  he  pulled  Pete  jumped  in  between  them  and 
took  the  ball  in  his  head. 

"  Every  one  was  silent  and  motionless  for  several 
seconds,  as  Jack  caught  poor  little  Pete  and  laid 
him  down,  with  a  woman's  gentleness,  on  the  saw 
dust  floor. 

"  Suddenly,  with  lightning  swiftness,  Jack  pulled 
and  shot.  The  man  fell  backwards.  Jack  stood 
over  the  body,  and,  with  horrible  calmness,  emptied 
the  revolver  into  the  man's  face. 

"I  was  kneeling  by  Pete's  side  when  his  eyes 
opened.  He  whispered  something,  and  I  put  my 
ear  to  his  lips.  'When  you  write  it  up,'  he  mur 
mured,  'be  sure  an'  say  me  side-pardner  never 
pulled  his  gun  till  after  de  odder  feller  had  de  drop 
on  'im!'" 


AT  THE  OLIVEDO. 


4  LTHOUGH  I  was  never  formally  introduced 
to  Jimmy,  I  became  very  well  acquainted  with 
him  during  our  first  meeting.  He  was  astride  his 
horse  at  the  time,  and  when  he  suddenly  drew  up  in 
front  of  me,  and  regarded  with  serious  attention  a 
rifle  I  was  cleaning,  I  took  advantage  of  what  ap 
peared  to  be  an  auspicious  opportunity  to  increase 
my  list  of  acquaintances,  and  asked  him  if  he  had 
ridden  far  that  day.  Jimmy  cocked  his  head  in 
calculating  silence,  stroked  his  horse's  neck  kindly, 
and  then,  regarding  my  rifle  again  attentively, 
answered : 

"Yes,  I  rode  to  San  Francisco  this  morning 
and."  (a  slight  gasp)  "back  again." 

I  looked  at  Jimmy  in  amazement,  for  the  ride  he 
had  taken  was  much  more  of  a  feat  for  him  than 
for  his  horse.  We  were  in  the  Los  Gatos  hills 
at  the  time,  and  his  horse  was  a  crooked  man- 
zanita  stick  about  three  feet  long.  I  suddenly 
concluded  that  my  acquaintance-list  had  indeed 
been  enriched,  and,  forcing  all  amazement  from 
my  voice,  remarked  seriously  that  he  had  taken  a 

pretty  long  ride  for  one  day.     Jimmy  furtively  ex- 
251 


252  AT  THE  OLIVEDO. 

amined  my  face,  and,  finding  there  no  signs  of 
doubt,  added,  with  the  unction  of  one  who,  having 
made  a  hit,  hastens  to  profit  by  it : 

"Oh,  yes,  pretty  long;  but  I've  been  to  San 
Jose  and  Back  since  then." 

Jimmy  being  satisfied  that  I  was  a  safe  target, 
did  not  even  swallow  hard  when  he  fired  this  last 
shot.  He  was  about  four  years  old,  had  half- 
curling  blond  hair,  big  gray  eyes,  and  the  sensi 
tive  mouth  and  tremulous  under-lip  belonging  to 
the  inspired  romancists.  Although  he  told  me  he 
had  lived  thirty-seven  years  in  the  house  over  the 
way  I  had  just  seen  him  come  from,  I  knew  his 
people  were  city  bred  from  his  own  manner  of 
speech  and  the  stj^lish  jersey  and  knickerbockers 
in  which  he  was  dressed.  I  was  mentally  mapping 
out  a  career  for  Jimmy  when  my  mental  conflict 
as  to  whether  he  should  be  a  sensational  preacher 
or  a  social  reformer  was  interrupted  by  his  asking : 

"What's  that?" 

"It's  a  gun." 

"What  kind  of  a  gun?" 

"A  rifle." 

"  What's  a  rifle?" 

"A  gun  to  shoot  bullets  with,*  I  responded, 
sowing  simply  that  I  might  reap  speedily. 

Jimmy  caught  on. 


AT  THE  OLIVEDO.  253 

"So's  mine  a  rifle,"  he  said,  and  I  knew  I 
should  reap  at  once. 

"Do  you  kill  much  with  it?'"  I  asked.  Some 
may  blame  me  for  thus  leading  Jimmy  on,  but  I 
hold  that  he  does  wrong  who  fails  to  encourage 
genius,  wherever  discovered. 

Jimmy  was  prepared.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he  responded 
not  too  briskly ;  "  I  killed  thirteen  quail  the  other 
day." 

"With  one  bullet?"  I  asked,  carelessly. 

Jimmy's  eyes  thanked  me  for  the  suggestion, 
but  his  tender  poet-mouth  was  grave,  as  he  re 
plied  : 

"  Yes ;  thirteen  with  one  bullet :  seventeen  hens 
and  four  roosters." 

Jimmy  must  have  seen  my  tremble  of  delight, 
for  he  asked,  anxiously : 

"  How  many  does  seventeen  and  four  count?" 

"Thirteen." 

"That's  what  I  said  before,  wasn't  it — thirteen?" 
he  added,  the  anxiety  dying  out  of  his  face. 

"Yes;  thirteen." 

"  What's  that?"  Jimmy  next  asked,  pointing  to 
the  rifle  trigger  with  one  brown,  chubby  hand, 
while  the  other  switched  some  wild  flowers  with 
his  horse. 

I  was  explaining  the  use  of  the  trigger,  when 


»»54  AT  THE  OLIVEDO. 

there  drove  up  a  gentleman  and  lady,  whose  ac 
quaintance  I  had  made  the  day  before  in  the 
canon  where  we  were  all  fern-gathering.  They 
proved  to  be  Jimmy's  parents.  I  knew  of  them 
only  that  they  were  Eastern  people,  who  had  lived 
in  the  neighborhood  a  year;  the  husband  health- 
seeking,  and  happy  because  he  had  found  it,  and 
the  wife  very  much  bored — possibly  for  the  same 
reason.  They  were  in  a  two-seated  wagon,  and 
in  quest  of  Jimnvy.  They  were  going  to  drive 
down  the  canon,  to  the  Griswold  ranch,  to  see  the 
result  of  an  olive-oil  experiment,  and  wouldn't 
I  like  to  drive  down  and  see  the  young  olivedof 

I  would,  and  I  did.  Wo  walked  through  the 
brown-leaved  grove,  listened  attentively  to  Gris- 
wold's  explanation  of  the  uses  of  horsehair  and 
silk  filterers,  and  of  the  possible  advantages  of 
druggist's  paper  and  bone  charcoal  in  the  clarify 
ing  process. 

I  observed  Jimmy,  in  the  oil  refinery,  take  up  a 
half-filled  bottle  Griswold  had  shown,  and  which 
we  had  tasted.  When  his  parents'  backs  were 
fairly  turned,  Jimmy  placed  the  bottle  to  his  lips, 
and  took  a  quick,  deep  draught.  I  saw  then  that, 
despite  his  tremulous  lips,  he  was  of  the  material 
which  forms  martyrs.  The  great  swallow  of  oil 
itself,  aside  from  the  surprise  at  not  finding  it 


AT  THE  OL1VEDO.  255 

Sauterne,  was  enough  to  force  a  tell-tale  commo 
tion  from  an  older  person  than  James.  Yet  that 
youth  gulped  the  dose,  laid  down  the  bottle  with 
only  a  reproachful  glance,  recovered  himself  with 
a  shiver,  glided  up  to  his  mamma,  and  asked,  in 
a  stage-whisper,  audible  to  all: 

"  Do  you  think,  mamma,  Mr.  Giswold  will  give 
us  some  wine  before  we  go?" 

The  mother's  embarrassed  "Hush,  child!"  was 
followed  by  Mr.  Griswold's:  "Jimmy  barely  an 
ticipated  me." 

We  accepted  his  invitation,  and  some  excellent 
Sauterne  was  in  fact  served  in  the  orchardist's 
cottage. 

"Only  a  quarter  of  a  glass  for  him,  please," 
said  the  mother,  when  wine  was  being  poured  in 
Ji mire's  glass. 

A  generous  host's  quarter  is  a  half,  and  Jimmy 
got  fully  that  and  drank  it  slowly,  after  the  man 
ner  he  observed  in  his  mother,  toward  whom  he 
maintained  a  deportment  of  patronizing  respect. 

"  I  will  show  you  the  rugs  Mrs.  Griswold  sent 
down  from  the  city,  if  you  like,"  Mr.  Griswold 
said  to  Jimmy's  mamma.  And  she  did  like — it 
was  the  first  idea  she  had  liked  so  far  as  my  ob 
servations  went.  She  followed  Mr.  Griswold, 
and  her  husband  went  with  her.  1  was  about  to 


256  AT  THE  OLIVEDO. 

go  also  when  my  eye  caught  Jimmy's,  which  was 
in  the  process  of  bestowing  upon  me  such  a  com 
prehensive  wink  that  I.  could  do  no  less  than  repay 
his  confidences  by  remaining. 

That  seasoned  child  then  poured  himself  a  full 
glass,  and  it  passed  behind  his  sweet  young  lips 
with  a  steady  rapidity  that  went  well  with  the  ac- 
compan}*ing  look  he  gave  me  over  the  rim  of  the 
glass. 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  a  hard  drinker,  Jimmy," 
I  remarked. 

His  large  gray  eyes  were  beginning  to  crowd 
out  in  a  way  suggesting  a  determination  to  see 
more  of  the  world  than  was  possible  under  normal 
conditions — a  freak  I  have  noticed  in  older  eyes 
similarly  affected. 

Jimmy  ignored  my  remark  and  asked : 

"Did  you  ever  kill  a  lion?" 

I  admitted  I  had  not. 

"  There  was  one  nine  feet  high  up  the  canon  last 
week,"  he  added. 

"Did  you  kill  it?" 

"  Yes;  I  just  took  and  shot  it  in  the — 

Jimmy  observed  a  smile  on  my  lips,  and  in 
stantly  drew  in  his  eyes  to  regard  me  more  closely, 
then  added,  without  a  falter : 

"Mr.   Griswold,  he   shot   it  in   the  leg,  and  I 


AT  THE  OLIVEDO.  257 

trained  it  and  chased  wild  cattle  with  it  all  night 
once,  but  it  got  tired  and  I  left  it  in  the  moun 
tains.  " 

The  young  man  observed  that  I  was  soberly  re 
ceptive,  and  then  added : 

"I  had  to  walk  home,  or  I  wouldn't  have 
cared." 

Just  then  my  little  romancist's  mamma  re 
turned,  carrying  a  rug  which  she  showed  Mr. 
Griswold  would  be  most  effective  hung  on  the 
wall;  and  daring  the  inspection  of  effects,  Jimmy 
silently,  carefully  withdrew,  sturdily  overcoming 
a  disposition  on  the  part  of  his  legs  to  collapse. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  we  started  for  our 
wagon,  and  Jimmy  not  being  in  sight,  I  offered  to 
hunt  him  up,  hoping  to  save  his  parents  a  surprise. 
I  found  him  just  back  of  the  bar  astride  a  fence. 
"Astride,"  did  I  say?  He  was  attached  to  the 
fence ;  was  a  part  of  it  as  though  he  had  grown 
there.  His  beautiful  full  lips  had  tightened  a 
trifle,  and  were  a  little  pale  as  he  opened  them, 
upon  seeing  me,  to  ask : 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  singing  scarecrow?" 

I  felt  certain  that  Jimmy  would  not  know  what 
opera  troupe  I  referred  to  if  I  answered  "yes," 
and  so  I  told  him  I  had  not. 

"They're  bully!"  James  continued.     "I've  got 


258  AT  THE  OL1VEDO. 

one  in  my  ten  acres  of  barley,  and  they  scare  the 
gophers  more'n  a  gun." 

I  told  Jimmy  we  were  going  back,  but  he  did 
not  move.  "  Come  on,  Jimmy!" 

The  boy  regarded  me  in  silence  a  moment,  and 
said,  reproachfully: 

"  I  can't  get  down." 

I  thought  the  best  plan  would  be  to  straddle  him 
on  my  shoulders  and  run  to  the  wagon,  as  if  we 
were  skylarking,  and  plant  him  on  the  back  seat 
with  me  before  his  condition  could  be  noticed. 

The  skylarking  appearance  I  felt  to  be  all  on  my 
side,  for  Jimmy  sat  on  my  shoulders  with  the  sol 
emn  air  of  a  justice  on  the  bench,  or  a  Knight 
Templar  on  parade;  but  when  I  had  him  in  the 
wagon  by  my  side  he  grasped  one  of  my  hands  in 
both  of  his,  and  gave  me  one  quick  glance  which 
showed  his  appreciation  of  my  little  strategy. 
He  continued  to  hold  my  hand — more  perhaps  as  a 
guarantee  of  his  steadiness  than  as  a  continued 
expression  of  thanks. 

Driving  home,  Jimmy  interrupted  a  long  silence 
on  his  part  by  whispering  huskily,  yet  seriously : 

"  I  once  killed  a  snake,  and  he  had  a  million 
rattles." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  them?"  I  whispered 
back. 


AT  THE  OL1VEDO.  259 

He  was  quiet  so  long  after  my  question  that  I 
might  have  thought  he  slept,  but  for  the  look  of 
anxious  thought  in  his  eyes.  At  last,  without 
looking  up,  he  said,  slowly : 

"Sold  'em  for  beans,"  and  again  lapsed  into 
grave  contemplation  of  his  mother's  back  hair,  in 
which  condition  he  remained  until  we  reached  my 
domicile.  There  I  said,  still  having  the  young 
man's,  as  well  as  his  parent's,  peace  of  mind  in 
view : 

"I  want  to  show  Jimmy  my  fishing-tackle," 
and  hurriedly  repeated  the  skylarking  trick,  rush 
ing  him  into  my  room,  while  his  people  drove  on, 
with  admonition  not  to  let  Jimmy  bother  me. 

I  laid  the  youth  on  my  bed,  where  he  slept 
soundly,  wrhile  I  finished  cleaning  my  rifle  and. 
read  novels  on  the  balcony  outside. 

Two  hours  later  James  emerged  from  my  room, 
and  walked  toward  me  as  one  oppressed  with  a 
great  grief. 

"What's  the  matter,  Jim?"  I  asked,  as  his 
little  hands  tenderly,  wonderingly  felt  his  head. 

"Bumped  my  head  on  the  gate  this  morning. 
Got  any  water?" 

"Where  does  it  hurt?"  I  inquired. 

"All  over — bumped  it  all  over.  Ever  bump 
yours?" 


BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES. 


A  T  Pierre's  they  were  talking  about  Johnny's 
party.  He  was  not  to  give  the  party  in  the 
sense  of  inviting  the  guests.  Col.  Bob  Billings  had 
made  up  a  studio  party,  secured  a  chaperon  for  the 
buds,  and  Johnny — John  Ascott — was  of  course  de 
lighted  to  offer  his  studio  and  his  services  for  the 
occasion. 

"What  do  they  do,  anyway?"  inquired  the 
model,  Miss  Hennessy.  "They  don't  smoke  nor 
drink;  they  have  no  shop  to  talk.  What  do 
they  do?" 

"  No  shop  to  talk !"  exclaimed  Tommy  Paget, 
who  was  looked  upon  as  an  authority  in  matters 
pertaining  to  the  upper  world,  having  an  aunt 
residing  therein.  "  They  talk  shop  more  than  we 
do — their  shop.  Mrs.  Jack  Daring,  the  chaperon 
Col.  Billings  has  been  lucky  enough  to  secure,  is 
the  most  interesting  and  original  woman  in  town. 
I've  met  her  at  my  aunt's.  She  can  just  knock 
you  over  with  her  bel  air  or  be  as  jolly  and  simple 
as — as — well,  as  one  of  the  girls  here.  You  know 
they  say  that  she  sometimes  joins  her  husband's 

stag  dinners  for  black  coffee,  and  takes  a  cigarette 

263 


264  BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES. 

with  the  men.  You  never  can  tell  how  much 
truth  there  is  in  such  stories.  But  although  she 
has  the  reputation  of  being  eccentric  in  that  way, 
she  is  the  one  woman  in  town  careful  mothers 
prefer  to  have  chaperon  their  daughters.  She 
knows  what  the  buds  must  avoid  to  escape 
being  wilted,  I  suppose." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  a  real  swell  woman  talk, " 
Mary  said,  meditatively,  holding  out  her  glass  for 
more  claret.  "  I've  seen  them  at  the  theatres, 
don't  you  know,  and  always  wondered  what  they 
were  talking  about — they  are  always  so  beautifully 
groomed." 

"  Just  in  what  way  do  you  fancy  their  grooming 
affects  their  conversation?"  inquired  Tommy 
Paget. 

"Don't  be  funny,  Tommy.  I  spoke  of  their 
groomed  appearance  because  it  is  the  most  attrac 
tive  thing  about  a  swell  to  the  eye  of  the  artist." 

"Will  the  eye  of  the  artist  kindly  cast  itself 
over  Sarah,  here,  and  state  wherein  she,  for  in 
stance,  lacks  grooming?" 

Mary  did  look  over  at  Sarah  thoughtfully  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  said :  "  Sarah  is  the  sweetest  thing 
alive,  and  with  her  slightly  surprised  eyes  looking 
at  me  through  the  cloud  of  smoke  escaping  from 
her  warm  and  generous  mouth,  I  am  smitten  with 


BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES.  265 

her  dearly;  but  Sarah  is — is — ah!  is  coming 
around  here  to  assault  me." 

Mary  and  Sarah  whispered  together,  and  then 
Mary  said. : 

"Johnny,  why  can't  Sarah  and  I  make  a  sneak 
into  the  drossing-rooin  to-morrow  before  the  party 
get  there?  We  can  peep  through  the  portieres 
and  not  be  seen." 

"Yes,  and  hear  what  they  say,"  added  Sarah, 
who  had  an  ambition  to  write  a  society  novel,  and 
saw  a  chance  to  get  the  only  material  she  thought 
she  lacked. 

"  You'll  do  some  blooming  thing  to  cause  a  dis 
covery,"  objected  Ascott,  who  was  specially  anx 
ious  for  the  success  and  propriety  of  his  party, 
some  of  his  artist  friends  having  secured  buyers 
through  parties  at  their  studios. 

But  one  man's  objections  cannot  stand  before  two 
pretty  women's  insistence,  and  it  was  arranged  as 
Mary  suggested. 

The  girls  were  in  the  studio  early  the  next  after 
noon.  "And  it's  well  we're  here!"  exclaimed 
Mary,  casting  a  look  of  horror  about  the  room. 

"  A  paper  bag  of  lemons,  another  of  sugar,  a 
black  bottle  of  gin,  and  a  siphon  of  soda  are  good 
enough  accessories  for  our  gang,  Johnny;  but 
they  must  not  be  in  sight  when  the  swells  arrive." 


2GG  BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES. 

The  gin-fizz  outfit,  as  well  as  several  unorna- 
mental  pipes,  glasses,  spoons,  decks  of  cards  and 
poker-chips,  were  hidden  in  the  dressing-room. 
The  banjos,  guitars,  copper  kettles,  vases,  bits 
of  fabrics,  casts,  weapons,  rugs,  furs,  and  other 
ornamental  accessories  were  arranged  in  attrac 
tive  carelessness;  the  pictures  that  it  was  hoped 
might  find  buyers  were  placed  in  the  best  light, 
and  Johnny  admitted  that  the  shop  looked  better 
as  a  result  of  the  girls'  "  fussing." 

"  Now,  sneak !"  said  the  artist,  when  the  guests 
were  heard  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

The  girls  ran  into  the  dressing-room,  an  alcove 
separated  from  the  main  room  of  the  studio  by  a 
portiere  extending  only  up  to  the  spring  of  the 
arch.  They  were  seated  on  a  trunk  awaiting  a 
safe  moment  to  look  out,  and  making  their  en 
forced  silence  endurable  with  cigarettes,  when  an 
arm  was  thrust  through  the  portiere  parting.  A 
fist  shook  at  them  violent!}',  then  waved  frantically 
toward  the  arch.  Sarah  saw  first.  Their  smoke 
was  lazily  winding  in  gray  banners  over  the  por 
tiere  pole  out  into  the  studio.  After  a  few  mo 
ments'  frightened  silence,  Mary  placed  her  mouth 
close  to  Sarah's  ear  and  whispered. 

"Fizz?" 

Sarah  nodded. 


BEHIND   THE  PORTIERES.  267 

Mary  began  operations  on  a  lemon  with  a  dull 
palette-knife  and  it  slipped  with  a  jingle,  the 
glasses  clinked,  the  siphon  hissed  uncommonly, 
and  the  sugar-spoon  dropped  to  the  floor  with  a 
rattle. 

Then  Ascott's  voice  was  heard,  louder  than 
usual,  with  a  note  of  hysteria  in  it : 

"  Pardon  me  one  moment,  Mrs.  Daring.  I  will 
step  into  my  dressing-room;  there  is  a  little 
sketch  there  I  should  like  to  have  your  opinion  of. 
Just  a  moment." 

Johnny  appeared  before  the  girls,  wrapping  the 
portieres  about  him  as  he  passed  through  them, 
so  as  to  leave  no  opening  for  observation.  He 
tore  his  hair,  rolled  his  eyes,  and  showed  every 
sign  of  approaching  frenzy  as  he  whispered: 

"  The  chaperon  suspects.  Please  don't  make 
such  noises!  If  she  discovers  you,  I  am  ruined!" 

The  girls  looked  humbly  apologetic,  crossed  their 
hearts,  and  Johnny  withdrew  with  a  sketch  he 
picked  up. 

Soon  the  conversation  became  livelier;  groups 
walked  from  picture  to  picture,  lounged  about 
the  little  ante -room  where  the  lunch  Col.  Billings 
had  ordered  was  served,  and  talked  art  as  it  is 
known  to  the  amateur.  Mrs.  Daring,  the  chaper 
on,  a  splendid  Junoesque  woman,  with  beautiful, 


268  BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES. 

frank  eyes  and  almost  girlish  mouth,  called  to 
Ascott : 

"  It  is  a  bore  to  have  your  shop  talked  to  you,  but 
I  want  to  ask  you  to  have  that  Portia — you  call  it 
Portia,  do  you  not? — sent  to  the  framer's  for  me. 
You  have  Mr.  Daring's  office  address;  kindly  let 
him  know  the  price." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mrs.  Daring,  to  care  for  it." 

She  was  gradually  drawing  the  artist  toward 
the  portieres,  and  did  not  pause  until  her  dress 
touched  it. 

"I  like  the  face  exceedingly"  she  said.  Then, 
suddenly,  "  You  are  to  be  congratulated  on  your 
model." 

"Have  you  seen  her?"  gasped  Johnny. 

"Seen  her!  Her  face  is  on  twenty  canvases  in 
this  room.  If  she  were  on  the  stage,  her  face 
would  be  her  fortune.  Could  she  act?  Is  she 
clever?" 

"She  is  extremely  stupid,"  Johnny  said  in  a 
slow,  distinct  voice. 

He  thought  he  discovered  a  smile  come  and  go 
quickly  over  Mrs.  Daring's  face. 

"  She  does  not  look  it,"  she  remarked.  "  I  should 
really  like  to  see  her.  One  reads  such  piquant 
stories  about  studio  models.  If  I  could  only  see 
her  and  not  have  it  known !" 


"YOU  ARK  REALLY  A  VERY  HANDSOME  GIRL,    AS   I  SUPPOSED. "-Page  269. 


BEHIND  THE  PORTIERES.  269 

Johnny  was  in  a  cold  tremble.  Mrs.  Baring 
was  looking  at  him  with  such  knowing  eyes. 

"  I  dare  say,"  she  continued,  "she  would  like  to 
see  me  as  much  as  I  should  her. " 

Johnny  almost  fainted.  "  Of  course,  we  would 
not  speak  if  it  would  be  indiscreet  to  do  so,"  the 
chaperon  added. 

"  Well,  then,"  gasped  Johnny,  who  saw  that 
Mrs.  Daring  had  grasped  the  situation.  "Now! 
While  all  the  people  are  over  by  the  lunch!" 

With  a  quick  movement,  the  chaperon  was  ab 
sorbed  within  the  fulness  of  the  portieres.  Sarah 
was  hiding  her  face  out  of  a  window,  but  the 
model,  extremely  flushed  and  defiant,  faced  the 
chaperon.  The  latter  regarded  Mary  through 
her  lorgnette  calmly  but  good-naturedly. 

"You  are  really  a  very  handsome  girl,  as  I  sup 
posed,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Mary  started. 

"Oh,  they  won't  hear  now;  they  are  making 
such  a  noise  over  the  lunch.  I  was  convinced 
you  were  here  when  Mr.  Ascott  looked  so  miser 
able  at  the  cigarette  smoke,  and  started  so  at 
the  little  sound  of  a  spoon  and  glasses.  I'm 
rather  clever  about  finding  out  such  things.  By 
the  way,  you  did  have  some  glasses,  did  you 
not?" 


270  BEHIND   THE  PORTIERES. 

Mai1}7,  now  quite  as  self-possessed  as  Mrs.  Jack 
Daring,  turned  toward  the  siphon. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Daring,  following  Mary's 
glance.  "Can  you — a — mix  them?" 

Mary  deftly  and  rapidly  compounded  two  mix 
tures  in  long,  thin  glasses,  and  gave  one  to  the 
chaperon. 

After  one  sip  Mrs.  Daring  whispered  : 

"Excellent!  You  see  there  are  several  quite 
young  girls  in  the  party,  so  I  told  Col.  Billings  to 
provide  only  lemonade  and  chocolate  to  drink,  but 
a  chaperon  requires  something  more  —  a  —  sus 
taining.  Really,  this  is  quite  the  best  I  ever 
drank,  and  Mr.  Daring  makes  a  capital  one." 

She  finished  her  glass.  "Yes,  you  are  quit;  as 
handsome  as  I  hoped,  and  I  fancy  not  at  all 
stupid." 

At  dinner  that  night  at  Pierre's  the  girls  sturdily 
refused  to  tell  what  had  happened  behind  the  por 
tieres  when  Mrs.  Daring  made  her  unexpected  call 
there. 

"No,"  said  Mary  decidedly,  "she  didn't  give  us 
away  to  her  gang,  and  we  won't  give  her  away 
to  ours;  but  she  is  a  thoroughbred." 


MAJOR  MAX  STORIES. 


THE   PARSON'S  PUNCH. 

that  Bob  Billings  is  stationed  here  in 
New  York  harbor,  I  suppose  he'll  be  in  Mrs. 
Jack  Daring's  box  every  night  of  the  opera,  ex 
cept  on  the  repeat  nights,  when  she  gives  her  box 
to  her  poor  relations,  and  on  those  nights  I  suppose 
we'll  be  favored  with  a  call." 

Mrs.  Max  did  not  put  this  in  the  form  of  a  ques 
tion,  yet  she  evidently  expected  a  response  from 
the  Major,  for,  after  a  minute's  silence,  she  said  : 

"Why  don't  you  answer?" 

"I  am  only,"  said  the  Major, 

"Mute  at  every  word  you  utter, 
Servant  to  your  least  frill  flutter, 

Belle  marquise ! 
As  you  sit  there  growing  prouder, 

And  your  ringed  hands  glance  and  go, 

I  was  wondering  whether  you  had  made  up 
your  mind  that  Mrs.  Jack,  Col.  Bob,  or  Mrs. 
Jack's  poor  relations  would  favor  us  with  calls  on 

the  repeat  nights  at  the  opera." 

273 


274  THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH. 

The  Major  concluded  by  regarding  his  wife  with 
great  gravity. 

Mrs.  Max  looked  at  the  Major  with  almost  anx 
iety  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  suddenly,  with 
an  air  of  relief : 

"Oh,  it's  because  you  begged  off  from  dressing 
for  dinner  that  you  talk  that  way ;  I  have  noticed 
that  you  quote  poetry  only  on  the  nights  that  you 
beg  off  from  dressing  for  dinner.  Now,  I  sup 
pose  Mrs.  Jack  would  think  of  something  clever 
to  say  about  that.  She  always  says  clever  things 
about  things  when  they  happen,  which  I  don't 
think  is  very  good  form." 

"Mrs.  Jack  might  say,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
Major,  thoughtfully,  "  that  the  mood  which 
prompts  a  married  man  to  beg  out  of  a  dress  suit 
is  a  premonition  of  his  dropping  into  poetry." 

"No,  Major,"  answered  Mrs.  Max  prompt!}-, 
"for  that  is  a  rather  pretty  remark,  or,  what  do 
you  say? — sentimental,  isn't  it?  She  does  say 
the  most  dreadful  things.  When  I  told  her  to 
day  they  had  taken  out  all  the  boxes  from  the 
floor  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera- House  she  said  she 
supposed  that  was  done  so  that  the  people  on  the 
floor  would  not  have  their  music  mixed  with  box- 
holders'  gossip." 

"I  dare  say,"  said  the  Major,  "that  it  was  a 


THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH.  275 

hardship  to  the  people  on  the  floor  to  have  their 
attention  to  the  boxhoklers'  gossip  distracted  by 
the  interruptions  of  Gounod  and  Wagner.  But  I 
have  diverted  the  pleasing  current  of  your  thoughts 
from  the  intentions  of  Master  Bob  Billings  as  to 
Mrs.  Jack's  box;  what  of  those?" 

"I  never  said,"  answered  Mrs.  Max,  "that  Bob 
Billings  had  any  intentions;  I  was  speaking  of 
Mrs.  Jack's  intentions,  and  they  are  the  same  for 
the  opera  season  as  they  were  during  the  Horse 
Show.  Of  course  there  was  an  excuse  during  the 
Horse  Show,  for  there  her  husband  was  out  of  the 
box,  riding  or  judging  or  driving,  so  she  had  to 
have  some  man  10  depend  upon  ;  but  what  excuse 
she's  going  to  make  every  night  of  the  opera  I'm 
sure !" 

"  She  might  make  the  same  character  of  ex 
cuse,"  said  the  Major  dryly,  "by  putting  her  hus 
band  in  the  chorus.  Jack  would  not  look  very 
well  in  the  chorus,  but  then  his  example  would 
make  that  diversion,  popular  with  men  of  his 
class,  which  would  at  once  redound  to  the  credit 
and  renown  of  the  management,  and  give  interest 
to  the  performance  for  those  whose  ears  are  un 
tuned  to  sweet  melodies." 

Mrs.  Max  giggled  a  little  at  this,  and  the  Major 
took  this  to  indicate  a  propitious  moment  to  sug- 


276  THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH. 

gest  that  she  brew  him  a  Scotch  punch.  The 
Major  was  in  slippers  and  smoking- jacket,  and 
there  is  much  to  be  said  in  favor  of  hot  Scotch 
when  one  is  in  slippers  and  smoking- jacket — and 
at  other  times.  There  are  those  who  contend  that 
Scotch  whiskey  should  be  mixed  with  cold  water 
only,  which  is  true  in  respect  that  all  whiskey 
should  be  mixed  with  some  kind  of  water,  but  in 
respect  that  it  argues  in  favor  of  a  cold  rather 
than  a  hot  Scotch,  it  is  naught  to  those  who 
have  drunk  a  hot  Scotch  punch  as  compounded  by 
Mrs.  Max.  There  is  something  extremely  pretty 
in  her  manner  and  methods  of  compounding  a  hot 
punch. 

In  that  delightful  occupation  she  proves  how 
true  it  is  that  the  artistic  and  domestic  tempera 
ments  may  be  fully  developed  in  one  person. 
Could  you  see  with  what  grace  and  daintiness  she 
arranges  her  polished  glass  and  silver;  how,  while 
the  water  is  heating  in  the  burnished  brass  kettle, 
she  measures,  with  thoughtful  brow,  the  exact 
quantity  of  sugar,  clove,  and  lemon  peel,  whose 
rightful  proportions  enrich  and  perfume  the  per 
fected  brew,  then  you  would  appreciate  the  expect 
ant  silence  in  which  the  Major  and  the  setter  dog 
watched  with  closely  following  eyes  each  of  her 
dainty  movements,  until  the  filled  and  steaming 


THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH.  277 

glasses  announced  the  adequate  end  of  these  ex 
quisite  means. 

The  Major  lifted  his  punch  to  his  lips,  and, 
finding  it  a  little  too  hot,  put  it  to  the  setter's 
nose,  and  that  calm  animal,  finding  it  much  too 
hot,  retired  in  offended  dignity  to  the  hearth 
rug. 

"A  hot  Scotch,"  said  the  Major,  between  tenta 
tive  sips,  "always  reminds  me  of  the  time  I  was 
guilty  of  compounding  a  felony." 

"Heavens,  Major,  a  felony!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Max.  "Isn't  that  something  dreadful?  Don't 
they  cut  them,  or  something?" 

"  People  who  commit  them  are  cut  sometimes  by 
their  friends  if  the  felonies  are  found  out,  but 
mine  was  not,"  the  Major  answered,  observing 
with  amazement  his  wife's  ability— he  did  not 
know  it  was  a  physical  characteristic  of  her  sex — 
to  handle  and  drink  a  beverage  too  hot  for  the 
masculine  sense  of  touch. 

"  It  was  in  that  Nez  Perces  campaign  when  Bob 
Billings  and  I,  both  lieutenants  then,  each  had 
command  of  a  small  force  following  Chief  Joseph 
across  Idaho.  Bob  and  I  separated  early  in  De 
cember,  designing  to  meet  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
month,  and  we  did  so,  I  recollect,  on  the  23d.  I 
distinctly  recall  our  greetings.  Mine  was,  'Hello, 


278  THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH. 

Billings;  got  anything  to  drink?'  His  was,  curi 
ously  enough,  'Hello,  Max,  what  have  you  got  to 
drink?' 

"Alas,  my  dear!  Picture  if  you  can  our  un 
happy  state:  neither  of  us  had  a  drop  to  drink — 
that  is,  not  a  drop  of  the  article  implied  but  not 
expressed  in  both  our  questions.  Our  little  forces 
joined,  as  it  happened,  at  a  very  good  camping- 
ground  ;  that  is,  there  were  wood  and  water  and 
game  and  no  Indians.  We  were  in  need  of  some 
supplies,  and  so  decided  to  remain  in  that  camp 
over  Christmas,  on  the  chance  that  the  supplies 
might  overtake  us  there.  The  day  after  we  met 
was  the  day  befoio  Christmas,  and  all  that  day 
Bob  and  I  bemoaned  our  fate  that  there  was  not  in 
camp  a  drop  of  anything  to  aid  the  cheer  of  Christ 
mas  eve. 

"  I  am,  my  dear,  as  you  know — yes,  that's  right, 
you  had  better  heat  a  little  more  water— a  temper 
ate  man,  yet  notwithstanding  that  commendable 
attribute,  I  hold  that  there  are  certain  festive  oc 
casions  the  full  quality  of  whose  spirit  cannot  be 
justly  appreciated  without  that  moderate  increase 
in  the  fanciful  phases  of  our  faculties  which  vi 
brate  in  pleasing  measure,  in,  I  may  say,  a  more 
redundant  play,  when  the  mind  has  been  cleared 
of  the  cobwebs  of  care  through  the  means  of  those 


THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH.  279 

enlivening  titillations  by  which  the  brain  responds 
to  the  action  of  alcohol." 

"Was  there  enough  whiskey  in  that  glass:" 
Mrs.  Max  asked  in  an  absorbed  manner. 

"  It  was  perfect,"  said  the  Major. 

"Then,  why  don't  you  go  onV"  said  Mrs.  Max, 
turning  the  extinguisher  over  the  alcohol-lamp. 
"I  thought  you  were  going  to  tell  me  about  a 
felon  you  had." 

"  To  be  sure,  sweet  remembrancer.  I  think  I 
was  saying  that  Bob  and  I  felt  in  a  pretty  bad 
way  because  we  had  nothing  wherewith  to  drink 
a  Christmas  eve  cup  to  our  far-away  sweet 
hearts  and  friends  —  his  sweethearts  and  my 
friends. 

"  There  was  a  sergeant  in  my  command,  a  Yan 
kee,  the  cleverest  soldier  I  ever  met.  He  was,  in 
fact,  though  not  so  breveted,  my  lieutenant,  ad 
jutant,  and  commissary.  He  was  nurse,  tailor, 
and  preacher  for  the  other  men,  and  while,  even 
oil  our  rough,  scrambling  mountain  march,  which 
dulls  the  keen  edge  of  the  ceremony  of  discipline 
in  most  soldiers,  he  never  failed  in  the  letter  of 
ceremony,  never  omitted  a  salute,  he  also  never 
failed  to  maintain  a.  slightly  superior  and  patroniz 
ing  air  toward  me.  The  soldiers  nicknamed  him 
the  'parson,'  because  he  preached  at  them  ,so  much. 


280  THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH. 

Never  did  Jonathan  Edwards  promise  deeper  dam 
nation  to  the  Housatonic  Indians  than  was  pre 
dicted  for  my  other  men  by  the  parson.  He  was 
especially  severe  upon  them  when  they  drank,  and 
thereby  encouraged  their  drinking  when  chance 
offered,  because  the  men  all  loved  the  parson's 
temperance  sermons. 

"  Well,  011  that  morning  before  Christmas  my 
sergeant — his  name,  by  the  way,  was  Hiram  Hoi- 
brook — heard  much  of  Bob's  and  my  lamentation 
over  the  fact  that  our  Christmas  eve  must  pass 
without  the  pleasure  of  a  punch.  I  saw  him  about 
noon  in  deep  earnest  consultation  with  our  civilian 
scout,  a  trapper  who  knew  every  foot  of  the 
mountains.  The  sergeant  came  to  me  after  that 
consultation  and  asked  for  an  afternoon's  leave  to 
go  out  deer-hunting.  I  saw  him  gallop  away  on 
his  horse,  and  Bob  and  I  had  finished  our  Christ 
mas  eve  dinner,  and  were  renewing  our  lamen 
tations  over  our  punchless  condition,  when  the 
sergeant  cama  to  our  camp-fire  and  reported. 
When  he  had  done  so,  instead  of  joining  the  other 
soldiers,  he  put  a  camp-kettle  over  our  fire,  and 
without  a  word  of  explanation  proceeded  to  heat 
some  water,  during  which  process  he  produced 
from  his  overcoat  pockets  some  lemons,  sugar,  and 
a  bottle  of  whiskey,  and  therewith  compounded  a 


THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH.  281 

punch  the  recipe  for  which  I  have  taught  you,  my 
dear. 

"  Something  in  his  manner  prompted  me  not  to 
question  him.  He  left  us  after  declining  a  prof 
fered  cupful  of  his  own  superior  decoction,  putting- 
it  from  him  with  the  information,  imparted  in  his 
blessed  Yankee  twang,  that  it  bitcth  like  a  ser 
pent  and  stingeth  like  an  adder. 

"A.h,  what  a  glorious  Christmas  eve  that,  then, 
became  for  Bob  and  me !  The  list  of  our  friends 
who  deserved  to  be  toasted  was  exhausted  before 
the  parson's  punch,  and  then  we  toasted  the  parson. 

"  Two  days  after  that  we  camped  near  a  lonely 
settler's  cabin.  The  settler,  an  old  Kentuckian, 
told  me,  in  answer  to  my  queries,  that  he  had  seen 
no  Indians,  but  that  some  rustler  must  have 
strayed  from  the  railroad  and  passed  that  way. 
Ho  reckoned  so,  he  said,  because  on  the  afternoon 
before  Christmas  some  one  had  entered  his  cabin 
while  he  was  away  and  stolen  a  bottle  of  whiskey 
and  some  lemons  and  sugar,  which  the  settler  had 
ridden  fifty  miles  to  obtain.  When  we  were  on 
the  march  again  I  said  to  the  parson:  'Sergeant, 
how  far  was  our  Christmas  eve  camp  from  that 
Kentuckian's  cabin?'  The  sergeant  said  that  he 
guessed  it  was  about  twenty  miles.  'That's  a 
pretty  good  mare  you're  riding,  sergeant,'  I  next 


282  THE  PARSON'S  PUNCH. 

said.  'We-el,'  he  drawled  slowly,  "she's  been 
known  to  make  forty  miles  of  an  afternoon  in  a 
case  of  emergency. ' ' 

;'  What   was  the    mare's    name?"    asked    Mrs. 
Max,  sleepily. 


NO  ONE  IN  TOWN. 

u  FiO  you  know,  Major,"  said  Mrs.  Max,  "that 
I've  just  been  thinking,  and  this  is  the  first 
time  I've  ever  been  in  town  in  August  in  my  life, 
and  it  seems  as  strange  as  if  we  were  in  some  foreign 
city.  Why  do  you  put  two  slices  of  cucumber-rind 
in  that  claret  cup?  The  recipe  says  only  one." 

"This  is  a  quart  cup,"  answered  the  Major, 
serious]}1-.  "  The  recipe  is  evidently  intended  for 
the  nurserj^." 

"There  is  actually  no  one  in  town,"  continued 
Mrs.  Max,  "  but  I'm  not  half  sorry  I  came  down 
with  you,  for  it's  lovely  shopping." 

"Then  the  shop  clerks  are  in  town?"  asked  the 
Major,  tasting  the  cup  and  finding  it  good. 

"Why,  of  course;  where  should  they  be?  I 
walked  all  the  way  down  the  Avenue  this  morning 
to  Broadway,  went  into  a  dozen  shops,  and  really 
I  did  not  see  a  soul  I  knew.  Really,  the  town  is 
empty.  It's  quite  jolly,  and  when  we  go  back  1  'in 
going  to  suggest  to  Mrs.  Jack  Daring  that  we 

give  a  town  party." 

283 


284  NO  ONE  IN  TOWN. 

"  So  that  your  friends  can  share  the  novel  expe 
rience  of  seeing  how  curious  the  town  looks  when 
it's  empty?" 

"  Why,  yes.  Something  like  that,  you  know. 
Besides,  it  seems  as  if  it  would  be  rather  kinil 
of  the  dear  old  town  to  bring  fifty  or  a  hundred 
people  here  when  it's  so  empty." 

The  Major  drank  some  cup,  lit  a  cigar,  took  up 
a  paper,  put  it  down,  regarded  Mrs.  Max  for  some 
time  over  his  glasses,  aiid  then  said :  "  My  dear, 
upon  mature  reflection,  I  do  not  think  your  town- 
party  scheme  can  reasonably  be  placed  within  the 
category  of  New  York's  life's  necessities,  if  your 
chief  object  in  view  is  to  overcome  any  tendencies 
you  think  you  observe  toward  total  depopulation." 

"Now,  Major,  when  you  talk  like  that  you  have 
either  seen  somebody  or  something,  or  what  in 
ever,  I'm  sure." 

"  You  have  made  a  very  clever  guess,  Mrs.  Max, 
as  usual.  I've  seen  somebody.  When  I'd  finished 
at  the  lawyer's,  there  being,  as  you  justly  ob 
served,  nobody  in  town,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  go 
to  the  club,  so  I  went  first  to  Cherry  Hill— 

"Major!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Max,  "I  did  not 
know  you  had  been  out  of  the  city  to-day." 

"I  have  not." 

"  Is  there  such  a  place  in  town — Cherry  HillT 


ATO  ONE  IN  TOWN.  285 

Pretty  name,  wonder  I  never  heard  of  it,"  Mrs. 
Max  remarked,  not  very  much  interested. 

She  rang  for  a  servant,  had  the  windows  and 
blinds  arranged  to  create  a  cooler  draught,  had  all 
the  lights  put  out  except  the  Major's  reading-lamp, 
had  more  magazines  and  papers  put  on  his  table, 
and  more  ice  put  in  the  pitcher.  Possibly  this 
was  to  make  the  Major  more  comfortable  for  his 
story-telling ;  possibly  to  make  him  so  comfortable 
he  would  not  tell  it. 

The  Major  waited  until  the  silent  servant  had 
left  the  room,  and  then,  smiling  a  little  under  his 
mustache,  continued : 

"  I  went  first  through  the  Cherry  Hill  district, 
then  all  about  the  Five  Points— 

"But,  Major,  no  one  goes  there.     Five  Points!" 

"Very  few,  to  be  sure;  but  then,  quite  a  num 
ber  stay  there.  The  people  were  so  thickly  crowded 
on  the  sidewalks,  yes,  and  in  the  roadway,  along 
Mulberry  Bend — 

"  What  very  pretty  names  they  have !" 

"Yes,  the  names  are  pretty— so  crowded  there 
that  it  was  like  the  Avenue  sidewalks  on  a  parade 
day.  They  were  not  all  in  the  streets,  although 
there  was  not  much  room  for  more.  Those  who 
could  not  get  out  of  the  houses,  too  old  or  too  weak 
to  go  out  into  the  crowd,  were  gasping  in  the  win- 


286  NO  ONE  IN  TOWN. 

dows  or  lying  on  the  fire-escapes.  They  are  pic 
turesque,  the  Italians  especially.  The  women  are 
all  bareheaded,  many  of  them  barefooted,  and 
both  men  and  women  all  have  some  bright  bit  of 
color  in  their  dress.  Their  occupations  are  not  so 
picturesque.  They  seem  to  be  chiefly  engaged  in 
buying  and  selling  combs  with  small  teeth,  very 
black  bread,  and  very  stale  vegetables." 

"  How  dreadful !"  interrupted  Mrs.  Max.  "  Why 
don't  they  buy  their  vegetables  before  they  are 
stale?" 

"Madam,  do  not  endeavor  to  entrap  me  into  a 
discussion  which  points  toward  politico-domestic 
economics.  I  was  merely  a  looker-on  in  Vienna, 
searching  for  artistic  effects.  I  did,  I  confess, 
pursue  one  inquiry.  I .  asked  a  police  officer  if 
many  of  the  people  thereabouts  went  out  of  town 
for  the  summer,  and  he  assured  me  that  there  was 
no  more  work  out  of  town  than  in,  and  that  those 
people  would  not  look  for  it  if  there  was.  He 
seemed  to  be  an  observing  person.  The  children 
were  quite  picturesque  there,  more  so  than  east  of 
the  Bowery,  where  I  went  later.  The  younger 
children  each  wore  but  one  garment." 

"Which  one?" 

"  My  merely  masculine  understanding  cannot 
enlighten  you  on  that  point.  Its  proper  or  im- 


NO   ONE  IN  TOWN.  287 

proper  name  I  do  not  know.  It  was  shaped,  gen 
erally,  like  a  flour  sack,  diversified  in  style  by 
various  rents,  frays,  holes,  and  stains.  The  older 
children,  yet  under  ten  years,  I  should  say,  while 
all  bare  headed  and  footed,  were  generally  pos 
sessed  of  more  than  one  garment,  and,  like  their 
elders,  each  wore  some  bright  bit  of  color.  On 
Mott  street  I  saw  a  scene  an  artist  might  have 
used  for  a  picture;  and,  indeed,  some  such  street 
picture  may  be  painted  in  New  York  when  our 
artists  learn,  if  they  ever  will,  that  they  need  not 
go  to  Europe  for  their  subjects.  On  an  old  truck 
a  little  Italian  girl  and  a  mulatto  girl  were  blow 
ing  soap-bubbles.  On  the  street  two  little  boys, 
a  coal-black  negro,  a  half-white  Chinese,  each 
using  a  bright-colored  kite  as  a  fan,  were  keeping 
those  bubbles  dancing  in  the  air  as  long  as  possi 
ble.  They  were  graceful  in  their  jumping  about, 
kneeling,  lying  down  even,  to  keep  themselves 
under  the  bubbles,  and  their  more  successful  efforts 
were  applauded  by  a  lot  of  men  and  children, 
Italian,  negro,  and  Chinese,  picturesquely  grouped 
about  the  spot.  To  be  sure,  the  negro  boy 
thrashed  any  of  the  other  children  who  broke 
any  of  the  bubbles,  but  that  need  not  go  on  to  the 
canvas." 

The  Major  refilled  his  glass,  thereby  awakening 


288  ATO  ONE  IN  TOWN. 

Mrs.  Max  from  a  graceful  slumber,  and  then  con 
tinued: 

"  From  there  I  crossed  the  Bowery,  and  went 
into  Hester,  Forsyth,  and  neighboring  streets. 
There  I  was  not  so  successful  in  my  search  for 
artistic  effects.  The  children  there  would  astound 
you,  my  dear,  by  their  number.  They  were  spread 
over  the  sidewalk  as  thick  as  sturgeon  eggs  over  a 
caviar  sandwich.  There,  too,  the  streets  were  so 
crowded  that  passage  through  them  was  difficult. 
I  have  recently  read  that  in  that  district  of  New 
York  there  are  two  hundred  thousand  Jews. 
After  my  walk  there  to-day,  I  am  prepared  to 
credit  the  statement,  and  to  believe  that  none  of 
them  are  out  of  town  for  the  summer. 

"  There,  also,  a  woman  with  any  covering  for 
her  head  would  be  as  conspicuous  as  an  unbon- 
neted  woman  promenading  the  Avenue.  Human 
beings  there  are  so  prevalent,  they  impress  an  out 
sider  as  being  needless.  They  swarm.  The  mass 
is  so  dense,  its  motion  so  ceaseless,  it  gradually,  to 
the  eye,  assumes  the  appearance  of  something  not 
human;  of  something — are  you  awake,  my  dear?" 

"Certainly,  Major.  I  heard  every  word  you 
said.  Talking  about  bonnets,  were  you  not?" 

"  Yes,  I  was  remarking  how  rarely  one  sees  a 
bonnet  when  there  is  no  one  in  town." 


AT    THE    FRENCH    BALL. 

"  J  AM  perfectly  satisfied  that  Mrs.  Jack  Daring 
went  to  the  French  ball  with  Bob  Billings, 
danced  once  across  the  floor,  had  a  glass  of  wine, 
and  danced  out  again,"  said  Mrs.  Max  to  the  Major, 
who  was  preparing  a  grape-fruit. 

The  Major  regarded  the  lady  in  an  absent- 
minded  manner  for  a  moment,  and  then  re 
marked  : 

"  The  centre  of  the  grape-fruit  should  be  cut  out 
with  a  sharp  knife,  thus  at  once  removing  all  the 
seeds  and  the  tough,  fibrous  core,  and  making  a 
cup,  into  which  you  pour  a  glass  of  kimmel,  thus. 
Then  you  add  a  plentiful  supply  of  powdered 
sugar,  and  gently  press  the  sides  of  the  fruit  back 
ward  and  forward.  That  works  the  sugar  and 
kimmel  into  the  flesh  of  the  fruit,  where,  mingling 
with  the  acid  juice,  they  produce  a  liquor  which 
is  as  refreshing  as  it  is  beneficial.  Madam,  yours 
is  prepared.  You  made  some  observations  con 
cerning  Mrs.  Jack  Daring.  Has  that  amiable 

and   amusing  person   eloped   with   Bob  Billings, 
289 


290  AT  THE  FRENCH  BALL. 

or  introduced  the  Strong  Man  at  one  of  her 
afternoons?" 

"I  said,"  began  Mrs.  Max  severely,  and  then 
stopped  to  take  a  spoonful  of  liquid  from  the  cup 
of  her  grape  fruit.  When  she  had  done  so  her 
manner  was  mollified  :  "  I  said  I  thought  she  was 
there,  for  I  saw  her  maid  in  a  plaid  street  dress  just 
like  the  one  described  in  the  papers  which  was 
worn  by  a  masked  lady  at  the  ball." 

"And  the  man  swallowed  three  crows,"  said  the 
Major  in  a  far-away  voice. 

"What  in  ever,  Major,  are  you  talking  about? 
I  said  nothing  about  crows!  Of  course  Mrs.  Jack 
will  tell  me,  for  she  always  does,  after  a  while1, 
but  it  is  so  much  more  fun  to  know  a  thing  when 
you  don't  know  it,  don't,  you  know,  than  to  know 
it,  you  know,  when  you  do — er — you  know  what 
I  mean,  Major?" 

"  In  pure  intellectual  activity  my  life  is  an  alter 
nating  current  of  joy,  determining  things  which 
you  know  that  I  should  know,  but  which  you  do 
not  tell  me,  my  dear.  As  I  understand  the  pres 
ent  puzzle,  you  desire  to  know  whether  or  not 
Mrs.  Jack  and  Bob  were  at  the  French  ball,  not 
because  you  want  to  know,  but  because  }'ou  don't 
know.  Am  I  blazing  away  accurately  by  the 
compass  of  intuitiveness?" 


AT  THE  FRENCH  BALL.  291 

"You  are  absurd,  and  I  think  the  expression 
'blazing  away'  must  come  from  the  army.  What 
can  Mrs.  Jack  have  to  do  with  a  blaze?" 

"  Two  souls  with  but  a  single  match, 
Two  hearts  that  blaze  as  one, " 

murmured  the  Major. 

Mrs.  Max  had  a  finger  of  each  hand  in  her  fin 
ger-bowl  and  was  tracing  the  pattern  on  the  doily 
beneath  it,  when  she  began  laughing  in  a  way  so 
knowing  that  the  setter,  which  had  stolen  into  the 
breakfast-room,  winked  at  the  Major,  as  if  to 
warn  him  to  be  on  his  guard.  "Would  you 
think,  Major,"  she  said,  "that  it  was  very 
wicked  of  Mrs.  Jack  to  go  to  that  ball  with  Mr. 
Billings?" 

"  To  go  to  the  ball,  no;  to  go  with  Billings,  yes. 
Decidedly  yes." 

"Why?"  asked  Mrs.  Max  in  some  alarm. 

"Well,"  said  the  Major,  thoughtfully,  "Bob  is 
such  a  harum-scarum  he  would  be  sure  to  disclose 
his  identity,  and  from  this  it  would  be  an  easy 
step  to  guess  that  of  his  companion.  To  go  to  the 
ball  for  a  ten  minutes'  lark  I  should  consider  no 
sin;  to  go  with  Bob  would  be  the  height  of  in 
discretion." 

Mrs.  Max  stopped    laughing  and  looked  grave. 


292  AT  THE  FRENCH  HALL. 

The  Major  looked  solemn,  and  ordered  the  setter 
out  of  the  room  severely. 

"Of  course,  Major,"  she  began  in  a  voice  of 
deep  humility,  "  I  intended — of  course  you  know 
I  meant  to  tell  you  that — that- — I  was  only 
joking  about  Mrs.  Jack,  because  of  course 
you  know  I  was  only  joking  3*011  see,  aiid  you 
know  she  wasn't  there — there  at  the  ball,  3*011 
know.'' 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear,  but  3*011  are  mistaken. 
She  was  there — with  me." 

"Major!" 

"Yes.  I  knew  she  was  the  only  woman  in  our 
set  who  had  spirit  of  adventure  enough  for  that 
sort  of  thing;  so  we  went." 

"  Oh !  she's  the  only  woman  in  3Tour  set  who  had 
the  spirit  to  go  for  a  ten  minutes'  lark,  is  she? 
Well,  whose  set  do  I  belong  to?  I  was  there  with 
Bob  Billings." 

"Certainly,  1113*  dear,  that  is  the  wa3*  we  ar 
ranged  it.  Now  do  not  excite  3*ourself.  Mrs. 
Jack,  Bob,  and  I  planned  the  whole  programme, 
and  you've  concluded  it  beautifulh*.  Mrs.  Jack 
told  her  husband  she  was  going  with  Bob,  and 
Jack  asked  why  3*011  and  I  did  not  go  with  them. 
Bob  thought  3*011  wouldn't  go,  and  I  bet  him  a 
dinner  you  would,  and  Mrs.  Jack  bet  me  a  dinner 


AT  THE  FRENCH  BALL.  293 

you  would  not  confess  until  next  week;   so  you've 
won  both  bets  for  me." 

Mrs.  Max  was  flaming  now. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  would  go  unless  I  knew  it 
was  a  joke,  and  that  you  were  going  too?"  she 
demanded. 

"Certainly  not,  my  dear.  I  told  Mrs.  Jack  to 
tell  you  as  a  secret  that  I  was  going,  so  that  you 
would  go  and  I  would  win  Bob's  bet." 

There  was  a  long,  thoughtful  silence,  which  was 
broken  at  last  by  Mrs.  Max  saying: 

"Major,  Bob  Billings  was  here  j'esterday." 

"  Of  course  he  was,  my  dear.  1  told  him  Mrs. 
Jack  had  helped  me  win  my  bet  from  him,  and 
suggested  to  him  that  he  could  square  that  account 
by  urging  you  to  confess  this  week  instead  of  next, 
and  thereby  make  Mrs.  Jack  lose  her  bet.  Did  he 
urge  you?" 

Mrs.  Max  stood  up  and  made  a  speech. 

'"Major  Max,"  she  declared,  "all  men  and  Mrs. 
Jack  Daring  are  wicked,  deceitful  things.  Mrs. 
Jack  called  yesterday  and  urged  me,  just  to  carry 
out  a  joke,  she  said,  not  to  tell  you  until  next  Aveek 
that  I  was  there.  Then  that  miserable  Bob  Bil 
lings  came  and  with  tears  in  his  voice  begged  me 
to  confess  to-day,  saying  he  was  conscience- 
stricken,  and  things,  don't  you  know.  Now,  it 


294  AT  THE  FRENCH  BALL. 

seems  everybody  knew  everything  about  every 
thing  except  that  I  knew  only  that  it  was  all  right 
for  me  to  go  because  you  were  to  be  there.  You 
are  a  set  of  villains,  and  I  shall  never  speak  to 
that  horrible  Billings  nor  Mrs.  Jack  again." 

"  Wait,  my  dear,  until  they've  both  paid  their 
dinner  bets." 

Mrs.  Max  looked  cross  for  nearly  a  minute,  and 
then  suddenly  asked,  with  good-natured  anima 
tion  :  "  By  the  way,  Major,  what  did  Mrs.  Jack 
wear  at  the  ball?" 


ANONYMS    AT   PYRAMID   CITY. 

#  I"  SHALL  certainly  expire  of  anxiety  if  Jack 
Daring  does  not  come  home,  or  Bob  Billings 
doesn't  return  to  his  regiment,"  said  Mrs.  Max. 

Mrs.  Max  indulges  in  tropical  hyperbolification 
sometimes.  It  is  the  manner  of  some  women  of 
really  calm  temperament.  She  did  not  look  at  all 
as  if  she  were  about  to  die,  nor  even  appear  anx 
ious.  She  was  engaged  in  making  the  Major's 
favorite  celery-salad-dressing  to  accompany  a  can 
vas-back,  and  the  Major  was  holding  an  anxious 
thumb  on  the  dial  of  his  watch  to  make  sure  that 
the  duck  was  served  on  the  minute  of  appointed 
time. 

"Anything  new  in  the  Billings-Daring  affair?" 
asked  the  Major,  not  taking  his  eye  from  his 
thumb,  which  was  following  the  minute-hand 
faithfully. 

Mrs.  Max  added  a  dash  of  red  pepper  to  the 
currant  jelly  stock  of  her  dressing,  and  then  tasted 
the  result  on  a  piece  of  celery  before  she  answered : 

"What  in  ever   Mrs.   Jack   Daring  means  by 
295 


296  ANONYMS  AT  PYRAMID  CITY. 

going  into  a  restaurant  to  lunch  with  Bob  Billings 
and  giving  such  a  bizarre  order,  I'm  sure!" 

"The  degree  the  proprieties  -were  outraged  by 
that  performance,"  the  Major  said  in  a  judicial 
voice,  "depends  upon  what  the  order  was." 

"  That  is  the  very  thing,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Max, 
carefully  drying  the  celery,  and  slicing  it  into  the 
salad-bowl.  " They  ordered — it  was  her  order;  I 
have  the  story  perfectly  straight,  fur  Fannie  Court- 
landt's  groom  was  standing  outside,  and  he  told 
my  maid — she  ordered  a  bottle  of  dry  champagne 
and  a  loaf  of  French  bread,  and  that's  all  they 
ordered.  That's  very  faddy,  and  that's  why  Mrs. 
Jack  Daring  did  it." 

Just  then  the  duck  arrived,  and  the  serious  busi 
ness  of  carving  off  the  two  breast  pieces  clear  of 
wing  and  leg,  depositing  each  clean  oval  on  a  hot 
plate,  and  silvering  the  upturned  crimson  surface 
of  each  piece  with  a  few  drops  of  lemon-juice  oc 
cupied  the  Major's  entire  attention  for  nearly  a 
minute,  and  then  he  said : 

"Of  course  a  lunch  of  dr}r  wine  and  French 
bread  is  potential  of  gossip,  if  not  of  scandal ',  but 
I'll  tell  you  a  little  story  which  may  suggest  that 
it  was  Bob  and  not  Mrs.  Jack  who  was  responsible 
for  the  menu  which  has  met  with  your  distin 
guished  disapproval." 


ANONYMS  AT  PYRAMID   CITY.  297 

"When  you  talk  like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Max, 
when  the  Major  stopped  to  take  some  duck,  "  I 
know  you  are  going  to  tell  a  bad  story.  You 
always  tell  your  bad  stories  in  big  words." 

"Madam,  you  are  inconsequential.  This  salad 
is  excellent.  I  have  mentioned  before  the  stage 
trip  Bob  and  1  took  one  time  through  the  Nevada 
desert  when  wo  were  assigned  to  court-martial 
duty,  at  Fort  Bidwell.  On  our  return  trip  our 
stage  broke  down  at  Surprise  Valley  or  Pyramid 
City.  I  remember,  now,  it  was  Pyramid  City, 
for  it  only  had  one  house,  and  Bob  made  a  bad 
pun  about  having  to  peer  amid  the  city  a  long 
time  before  finding  another  house. 

"  Well,  in  our  stage  were  two  women,  anonyma3, 
who  had  deserted  the  failing  fortunes  of  some 
mining-camp  which  had  enriched  them  enough  to 
warrant  their  return  to  civilization.  One  was 
young,  neither  was  handsome  nor  attractive. 
Both  wore  diamonds  and  dresses  that  were  gro 
tesque  in  their  finery  seen  in  that  forsaken,  dusty 
desert.  Pyramid  City  was  a  stage  station — that 
is,  a  station  for  beast,  but  not  for  man.  It  was 
not  an  eating-station.  One  of  those  curious  Ne 
vada  ranches  near  by,  reclaimed  from  the  sage 
brush  and  watered  by  a  little  stream  that  ran  into 
Pyramid  Lake,  supplied  food  for  the  stock,  but  no 


298  ANONYMS  AT  PYRAMID   CITY. 

one  supplied  food  for  the  human  inhabitants — three 
stablemen  and  a  Chinese  cook.  His  association 
with  those  stablemen  had  spoiled  that  Chinaman, 
for  he  was  as  dirty  and  lazy  as  they,  and  whatever 
ability  he  had  ever  possessed  as  a  cook  had  per 
ished  from  lack  of  exercise.  He  provided  for  us, 
arid  joined  us  at  the  table  for  its  discussion,  a 
breakfast  of  harn,  potatoes,  and  bread.  The  ham 
was  salted  leather,  the  potatoes  larded  wax,  and 
the  bread  was  greasy  putt}*.  The  lunch  offered 
was  the  same.  We  did  not  eat.  We  hoped  for 
dinner;  it  was  the  same.  We  could  not  eat. 
Those  poor  women  could  eat  110  more  than  we. 
We  spoke  to  them  at  lunch.  I  adopted  Bob's 
attitude  toward  them.  It  not  only  saved  the  situ 
ation  for  us,  but  also  for  them.  The  stablemen 
were  deceived  by  our  assumption  of  respectful  con 
sideration,  and  supposed  the  women  must  be 
something  different  from  what  they  appeared. 

"  You  are  looking  at  me  wonderingly,  madam. 
I  wonder  at  it  myself  sometimes,  but  ifc  has  not  yet 
occurred  to  me  to  regret  that  I  once  treated  two  un 
fortunate  women  for  a  couple  of  days  as  my  social 
equals.  The  women  appreciated  it,  too,  and  that's 
what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about. 

"  We  had  eaten  nothing  all  day,  and  after  the 
dinner  hour  Bob  and  I  were  seriously  discussing 


ANONYMS  AT  PYRAMID  CITY.  299 

a  tramp  to  the  next  station,  fifteen  miles,  but  were 
rather  discouraged  by  the  reflection  that  we  should 
not  find  a  very  much  improved  cuisine  there.  As 
we  were  talking  this  over,  wandering  up  and 
down  the  dusty  road,  the  women  came  to  us.  The 
younger  one  told  us  in  broken  French  that  she  had 
discovered  back  of  the  house  an  earthen  oven,  in 
which  she  could  bake  some  good  bread  if  we  could 
induce  the  Chinaman  to  let  her  have  what  she 
needed  from  his  stores.  Of  course  we  soon  made 
arrangements  with  the  cook,  and  in  half  an  hour 
the  two  women  and  Bob  and  I  were  down  by  the 
oven,  all  at  work  under  the  direction  of  that  girl. 
She  got  a  tub,  which  she  called  her  p&trin,  which 
we  carried  half  a  mile  to  the  creek  and  scoured 
with  sand  and  water.  Then  she  mixed  her  dough 
of  flour,  water,  salt,  and  yeast,  scolding  a  little 
because  she  had  to  use  a  yeast-cake  instead  of  malt 
yeast.  When  we  saw  that  she  was  making  dough 
enough  in  her  petrin  to  feed  a  regiment,  and 
asked  why,  she  laughed  and  said  she  did  not  know 
how  to  make  less;  that  was  the  quantity  she  used 
to  make  once  a  week  at  home  in  France.  Then 
she  told  us  to  get  wood  and  build  a  fire  in  and 
about  the  oven. 

"  When  she  had  her  dough  made,  she  covered  it 
in  the  tub  with  a  flannel  which  she  got  from  her 


300  ANONYMS  AT  PYRAMID  CITY. 

valise.  Then  she  took  charge  of  the  fire,  for  that 
had  to  be  just  so  big  and  no  bigger  all  the  time. 
In  an  hour  she  was  at  the  dough  again,  stretching- 
it  out  and  throwing  back  the  ends  as  you've  seen 
them  pull  molasses  candy  in  the  shops.  It  was 
what  she  called  lpetrin  le pain."1  She  was  clever 
and  patient  at  it.  Bob  and  I  each  tried  it,  but  it 
tired  out  wrists  in  a  minute.  Then  the  dough 
was  covered  with  the  flannel  again  and  tliepetrin 
with  boards.  She  went  through  with  this  per 
formance  three  times  at  intervals  of  an  hour;  the 
bread  would  not  be  right  unless  she  did  so,  she 
said. 

"  The  other  woman  produced  from  her  valise 
three  bottles  of  good  champagne.  I  took  my  hat 
off  to  her  when  I  saw  the  brand.  She  told  us  how 
to  cool  the  bottles.  We  covered  them  with  cloths, 
tied  them  with  strings  to  branches  of  a  cottonwood 
tree  leaning  over  the  creek,  and  bent  the  branches 
down  and  soused  the  bottles  in  the  water.  Bob 
and  I  took  turns  for  hours  sousing  and  swinging 
those  bottles.  Before  the  bread  had  got  its  last 
treatment  we  were  told  to  rake  the  fire  off  and  out 
of  the  oven,  and  our  breadmaker  inspected  and 
cleaned  out  that  oven  in  a  very  knowing  way. 
Then  she  made  as  many  long  loaves  as  the  bottom 
of  the  oven  would  hold,  and  told  us  that  in  an  hour 


ANONYMsE  AT  PYRAMID  CITY.  301 

our  supper  would  be  ready.  It  turned  out  to  be 
breakfast,  for 

"  The  first  baby  peaks  were  peeping 
From  under  their  bedclothes  of  snow" 

on  the  Sierras  to  the  west  of  us  before  that  bread 
was  baked.  In  the  mean  time  the  other  woman 
had  spread  a  cloth  down  on  the  dry  sand  by  the 
creek,  had  scoured  up  the  Chinaman's  sorry  table- 
service,  and  had  even  made  a  show  of  table  decora 
tion  with  the  youngest  shoots  from  the  cottonwood 
twigs.  Those  same  baby  peaks  were  golden  lances 
when  we  sat  down  to  breakfast,  for  the  sun  had 
come  up  out  of  the  eastern  desert  to  burn  again 
the  land  that  had  not  yet  revived  from  yesterday's 
scorching.  Well,  that  was  our  breakfast— bottles 
of  cold  wine,  and  loaves  of  such  French  bread  as  1 
have  never  eaten  before  nor  since. 

"You  know  how  courtly  Bob  can  be  when  he 
wants  to  produce  a  correct  impression  upon  a  care 
ful  mother.  That  was  his  manner,  and  I  pat 
terned  mine  upon  his  as  we  broke  bread  and  poured 
wine  for  those  women  and  talked  to  them,  not  of 
their  lives,  but  of  ours,  and  of  the  best  in  ours." 

The  Major  stopped.  He  had  told  a  longer  story 
than  he  usually  does,  and  Mrs.  Max  did  not  com 
ment  at  once.  She  walked  around  behind  him, 


302  ANONYMsE  AT  PYRAMID   CITY. 

pulled  his  head  back  by  his  grizzled  mustache,  and 
kissed  him. 

"That's  for  you,"  she  said;  "and   as  for  Bob 
Billings,  invite  him  to  dinner  to-morrow." 


WHAT    THE    PA11HOT    SAID. 

VJ  RS.  MAX  was  making  their  Sunday  morning 
coffee.      That  is  a  little  convention,  it  may 
almost  be  called  a,  function,  that  Mrs.  Max  never 
fails  to  observe  on  Sunday  morning. 

One  time,  soon  after  they  were  married,  the 
Major  had  said  to  her,  and  possibly  forgot  the 
saying  the  next  minute,  that  he  had  fallen  in  love 
with  her  first  when  he  had  seen  her  making  her 
father's  Sunday  morning  coffee.  Wives  remem- 

*/  O 

her  those  sayings,  and  husbands  are  sometimes 
surprised  by  having  them  recalled  years  after  they 
have  forgotten  them.  That's  one  of  the  differ 
ences  in  the  sexes. 

Any  way,  the  excellent  coffee  that  the  cook 
makes  is  never  served  on  Sunday  morning. 

The  Major  was  watching  the  operation,  as  ho 
has  watched  it  some  hundreds  of  Sunday  morn 
ings,  and  not  quite  understanding  just  why  Mrs. 
Max  did  all  the  various  little  things  she  does  with 
that  tin  French  coffee-pot  she  uses.  Although  the 

coffee  pot  is  scalded  each  Sunday  before  it  is  put 
303 


304  WHAT  THE  PARROT  SAID. 

away  for  its  week's  rest,  Mrs.  Max  always  rinses 
it  with  scalding  water  again  before  using  it.  It  is 
one  of  the  kind  that  has  an  inner  cylinder  with  a 
perforated  hottom,  and  in  that  cylinder  a  piston 
with  a  perforated  disc  on  its  lower  end.  Mrs. 
Max  does  not  put  the  coffee  on  top  of  this  disc, 
but  directly  in  the  bottom  of  the  cylinder,  and 
uses  the  disc  like  a  ramrod  to  pack  the  coffee 
down  hard. 

"Because,"  Mrs.  Max  explained,  "the  harder 
you  pack  the  coffee  the  longer  it  takes  the  water  to 
seep  through  ;  and  the  slower  the  water  is  in  seep 
ing  through,  the  stronger  the  coffee  is." 

Having  the  coffee  nicely  packed,  Mrs.  Max  lifts 
her  kettle  of  boiling  water  from  the  spirit  lamp 
and  fills  up  the  cylinder,  watching  the  coffee  swell 
to  the  top  with  critical  eye.  Then  the  coffee  is 
packed  down  again  and  more  boiling  water  poured 
over  it,  and  the  extract  that  she  makes  by  these 
interesting  proceedings  is  so  strong  that  you  must 
have  a  proportion  of  one-quarter  coffee  and  three- 
quarters  boiling  milk  to  the  cup  if  you  expect  to 
sleep  at  all  that  week.  And,  by  the  way,  the  cup 
of  coffee  she  serves  is  so  hot  that  it  will  stand  a 
little  cream  without  being  too  much  depressed  in 
temperature. 

It  was  after  she  had  added  the  cream  to  the 


WHAT  THE  PARROT  SAID.  305 

Major's  cup  and  observed  his  silent  satisfaction  at 
the  result  that  she  remarked  : 

"  The  trouble  with  Mrs.  Jack  Daring  is  that  she 
talks  too  much." 

"  That  is  the  remark  the  parrot  made  about  him 
self  after  his  brief  engagement  with  the  setter 
dog,"  said  the  Major.  "By  the  way,  did  I  ever 
tell  you  that  story?" 

"  You  told  me  one  story  about  a  parrot,  and  not 
a  dog,  I  think,  but  a  monkey.  If  this  is  anything 
like  that  you  needn't  tell  it,"  Mrs.  Max  replied, 
warningly. 

"Well,"  said  the  Major  thoughtfully,  "while 
the  stories  are  not  just  the  same,  they  have  an 
element  in  common  which  may  be  your  very  point 
of  objection.  I  will  give  you  the  benefit  of  the 
possibility  if  you  will  enlighten  me  as  to  Mrs. 
Jack  Daring's  most  recent  offence  in  compromis 
ing  loquacity." 

"When  you  talk  like  that,  Major,"  Mrs.  Max 
said  demurely,  "I  wonder  that  you  have  never 
finished  your  article  on  'The  Futility  of  a  Live 
Indian.'  That's  just  the  kind  of  language  people 
use  in  magazines." 

"Madam,"  exclaimed  the  Major,  "can  you  jest 
upon  so  serious  a  subject  as  my  literary  ambitions? 
Tell  me,  what  has  Mrs.  Jack  Daring  said?" 


300  WHAT  THE  PARROT  SAID. 

"  Why,  she  has  been  telling  all  over  town  about 
the  scandal  of  that  Philadelphia  suburban  tea," 
began  Mrs.  Max.  "  You  know  she  was  down 
there  last  week,  and — 

"  Oh,  that's  why  I  couldn't  find  Bob  Billings  at 
the  club  last  week !"  interrupted  the  Major. 

"  Major  Max,  you  are  scandalous !"  exclaimed 
his  wife,  but  she  smiled  knowingly  to  herself,  and 
allowed  the  Major  to  help  her  to  some  more  finnan- 
haddie,  bechamel,  before  she  went  on  with  her 
story. 

"  Well,  it  seems  that  some  of  the  ladies  in  quite 
the  smartest  set  in  Philadelphia  determined  to 
give  a  suburban  tea,  like  ours  at  Claremont,  you 
know.  They  picked  out  a  place  which  is  pretty 
enough,  but  it  turned  out  afterward,  so  Mrs.  Jack 
says,  that  the  place  was  very  popular  with  men 
who  drive  out  of  town  at  night  with  women  no  one 
ever  heard  of,  don't  }'ou  know?  The  men  who 
were  invited  to  the  tea  didn't  dare  to  tell  the  ladies 
who  were  getting  it  up  what  sort  of  a  resort  this 
was  they  were  going  to,  because  of  course  if  they 
told,  why,  don't  you  see,  that  would  prove  that 
they  knew,  and  how  in  ever  were  they  going  to 
explain  how  they  knew?  So  the  tea  came  off,  and, 
Mrs.  Jack  says,  a  lot  of  the  men  were  half  afraid 
to  go,  but  they  did  not  dare  to  stay  away  because 


WHAT  THE  PARROT  SAID.  307 

they  were  afraid  the  women  would  find  out  what 
they  were  afraid  of." 

"  Pardon  me  a  moment,  my  dear,"  the  Major  cut 
in. 

"Either  I  am  more  stupid  than  usual  this  morn 
ing,  or  else  your  story  is  a  little  bit  complicated. 
See  if  I  understand  you:  Some  Philadelphia 
ladies,  with  a  laudable  ambition  to  have  a  suburb 
an  tea,  made  an  unfortunate  selection  of  a 
place  to  have  it.  Some  Philadelphia  men, 
acquainted  with  the  real  facts,  remained,  silent, 
because  to  confess  their  knowledge  would 
criminate  them.  They  also  knew  there  would 
be  some — so  far  unexplained — danger  in  their 
going,  and  were  afraid  that  if  they  stayed  away 
they  would  admit  their  knowledge  of  the  danger. 
Am  I  right?" 

"I'm  sure,  Major,"  pouted  Mrs.  Max,  "that's 
just  what  I  said.  But,  of  course,  I've  never  been 
in  Philadelphia,  and  so  I  only  have  Mrs.  Jack 
Daring's  word  for  it,  and,  besides,  1  said  at  the 
start  that  she  talks  too  much.  Well,  they  all  went 
to  the  tea,  and  what  in  ever  do  you  think?  There 
was  a  horrid  parrot  there,  and  it  knew  a  whole  lot 
of  those  men's  names,  and,  will  you  believe  it, 
that  parrot  called  out  to  ever  so  many  of  them,  and 
asked  them  where  a  lot  of  woman  were,  don't  you 


308  WHAT  THE  PARROT  SAID. 

know,  women  whose  names  the  ladies  had  never 
heard,  so  Mrs.  Jack  says." 

"Well,"  said  the  Major,  after  a  thoughtful 
pause,  "  it  appears  that  it  was  the  parrot,  and  not 
Mrs.  Jack,  after  all,  who  talked  too  d — 

"Major!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Max,  "let  me  fill 
your  cup !" 


A    CELESTIAL   STRIKE. 

44  IV ^^'  Major,  you  must  not  praise  the  cook  in 
her  hearing,"  Mrs.  Max  said.     "You  will 
only  spoil  her  or  make  her  demand  an  increase  of 
wages." 

"Not  much,"  the  Major  replied  emphatically. 
u  I  had  a  little  experience  in  that  matter  which 
taught  me  a  lesson.  It  was  before  we  were  mar 
ried,  my  dear,  and  before  I  resigned.  Our  regi 
ment  was  with  General  Howard,  chasing  the  Nez 
Perces  Indians  across  the  mountains  in  Montana 
and  Idaho.  One  of  our  lieutenants  had  been 
stationed  at  the  Presidio  in  San  Francisco,  and  tha 
mess  made  arrangements  with  him  to  bring  a 
Chinese  cook.  My,  how  that  cook  could  cook! 
The  beggar  brought  along,  in  some  mysterious 
manner,  the  most  unexpected  things.  I  remember 
one  day — we'd  had  a  venison  roast  the  day  before 
—that  adorable  celestial  gave  us  a  venison  stew 
with  pickled  walnuts!  All  the  officers  in  the  mess 
appreciated  this,  but,  bless  me!  how  they  jumped 
on  me  when  I  said  to  the  cook:  'Plenty  good 
309 


310  A   CELESTIAL  STRIKE. 

stew,  Chung,  plenty  good.'  All  said  I  was  a 
fool." 

"Major!     How  could  they?"  said  Mrs.  Max. 

"Oh,  that's  only  messroom  talk.  Everj'body 
calls  everybody  a  fool  at  a  mess  dinner.  Well,  as 
I  was  saying,  all  the  bojTs  said  Chung  would  strike 
for  higher  wages,  get  impudent  or  haughty,  and 
leave  if  we  praised  him.  So  they  laid  out  a 
scheme.  Whenever  he  brought  in  a  particularly 
good  dish,  we  were  to  turn  up  our  noses  and  make 
mean  remarks.  That  would  keep  Chung  in  a 
proper  and  lowly  spirit,  and  generally  promote 
harmony  and  discipline.  The  next  day  he  gave 
us  some  mountain  quail  roasted  in  envelopes  of 
bacon;  and,  really,  my  dear,  I  wish  your  cook 
could  roast  a  quail  like  that.  The  boys  all  said 
'ugh  !'  or  'pish !'  or  'tush  !'  and  the  last  one  threat 
ened  to  throw  the  dish  away.  Chung  regarded 
that  with  calm  exterior,  but  after  dinner  he  ap 
peared,  swaddled  in  every  one  of  his  jackets,  and 
bade  us  good-by.  We  were  nearly  frightened  to 
death  and  asked  what  ailed  him. 

"'You  no  like  my  cooking,  me  no  cook,'  that 
heathen  answered. 

"  We  assured  him  we  would  try  and  stand  it, 
and  he  grinned  and  said  we  could  stand  it  for  just 
ten  'dolla'  more  per  lunar  month.  Of  course  we 


"  'YOU  NO  LIKE  MY  COOKING,   ME  NO  COOK,'  THAT  HEATHEN  ANSWERED." 

— Pajjre  310. 


A   CELESTIAL  STRIKE.  311 

felt  silly,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  pay  it  to 
him.  That  made  $70  a  month.  They  were  the 
biggest  lot  of  fool  officers  I  ever  saw,  for  they  in 
sisted  on  their  scheme.  One  day  Chung  brought 
in  a  tenderloin  of  mule — 

"Mule?     Major!" 

"Yes,  we  were  down  in  the  Bad  Lands  then, 
hundreds  of  miles  from  any  settlement,  and  mule 
was  pretty  good.  You  never  happened  to  eat  a 
young  mule,  I  suppose?  Of  course  not.  Well,  he 
had  seasoned  that  mule  with  a  kind  of  little  pepper 
he  had  found,  and  it  was  immense.  Then  those  fool 
boys  went  through  the  same  idiotic  performance. 
The  last  one  the  dish  was  passed  to  turned  his 
nose  up  to  his  eyebrows  and  said,  'Oh,  hell.'" 

"Major!" 

"  I  was  not  the  man,  my  dear.  Chung  had 
watched  the  proceedings  to  the  end  silently,  but 
when  the  remark  L  have  quoted  was  made  Chung 
turned  on  his  heel  and.  he,  too,  said— 

"Major?" 

"No,  not  'Major',  but  the  word  you  object  to. 
After  dinner  he  appeared  again  all  dressed  up  in 
his  Sunday  clothes  and  bade  us  good-by.  We  re 
monstrated,  but  it  did  not  work.  We  threatened, 
and  he  pretended  not  to  understand.  Finally  we 
asked  him  how  much. 


:5T2  A   CELESTIAL  STRIKE. 

'"One  bundled  dolla  month,'  answered  Chung, 
vvith  never  a  ghost  of  a  smile. 

"We  paid  it.  Since  then  I've  believed  a  little 
praise  to  the  cook,  judiciously  administered,  ap 
proaches  G  in  domestic  economy." 

"I'm  sure,"  Mrs.  Max  remarked,  after  a 
thoughtful  observation  of  her  finger-nails,  which 
are  very  pretty,  "  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  you 
didn't  advertise  for  another  cook." 


HOW    TO    BE    ESTEEMED,    THOUGH 
WITTY. 

UTI7HEN  OUT  regiment  was  stationed  in  San 
Francisco,  some  years  before  I  resigned  to 
assume  the  slightly  impersonal  though  altogether 
comfortable  character  of  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Max, 
I  knew  a  fellow  out  there  named  Arthur  McEvven, 
who  wrote  things." 

The  Major  paused  to  give  his  undivided  attention 
to  a  sandwich  he  had  constructed  of  half  a  walnut 
and  an  almond,  interlaid  with  a  plump  raisin. 
It  is  a  kind  of  sandwich  which  goes  very  well  with 
burgundy,  and  the  Major  was  drinking  burgundy. 

"Has  he,  that  man, you  speak  of,  come  to  New 
York?"  asked  Mrs.  Max,  with  slightly  anxious 
brow. 

Some  of  the  Major's  Western  friends  are  a  trial 
to  his  wife,  for  she  finds  difficulty  in  adjusting  her 
placid  ideas  to  the  degree  of  breeziness  she  ob 
serves  in  their  view  of  things. 

"No,"  answered  the  Major.  "McEwen,  I  re 
gret  to  say,  is  not  here.  But  I  was  reminded  of 


314  HOW  TO    BE  ESTEEMED. 

him  to-day  by  a  talk  I  had  with  a  Western  artist. 
Mac,  you  know — I  think  I  have  mentioned  it  to 
you — is  the  author  of  that  charming  book,  now 
out  of  print,  'How  to  be  Esteemed,  Though 
Witty.'  What  recalled  him  to  mind  to-day  was 
a  remark  made  by  my  Western  artist,  that  he 
proposed  to  write  a  book  entitled  'How  to  be  Ap 
preciated,  Though  Western.' ' 

Mrs.  Max  was  silent  for  some  time,  holding  her 
glass  of  wine  against  the  light,  so  that  it  reflected 
a  dancing  ruby  on  her  bare  arm,  before  she  an 
nounced  seriously : 

"  I  do  not  think  }-our  friend,  the  writer,  could 
have  been  in  earnest,  for  he  must  have  known  that 
really  nice  people  never  are  witty.  Perhaps  he 
was  only  joking ;  so  many  of  those  Western  peo 
ple  seem  to  be  jokers,  though  whatever  they  do 
that  for,  I'm  sure!" 

"You  may  be  right,  my  dear,"  said  the  Major, 
judicially,  •'although  I  am  not  so  sure  as  you  are. 
Perhaps  McEwen  holds  the  theory  that  wit  is  not 
an  accomplishment,  but  a  failing.  He  may  have 
been  actuated  in  writing  his  book  by  the  exalted 
though  seemingly  hopeless  purpose  of  the  distin 
guished  author  of  that  recent  work,  'How  to  be 
Healthy,  Though  Sick.'  But  you  never  can  tell 
about  those  Westerners." 


HOW  TO  BE  ESTEEMED.  315 

"I  should  think  not!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Max 
decidedly.  "There  is  that  Bob  Billings.  He 
does  say  the  most  foolish  things  sometimes.  He 
told  Mrs.  Jack  Daring  the  other  day  that  he  ex 
pected  to  be  ordered  back  soon  to  his  regiment  on 
the  frontier,  although  he  hoped  to  have  been  as 
signed  to  some  nice  duty  here  or  in  Washington. 
His  only  chance  now,  he  said,  was  in  getting 
interviewed  in  the  papers  about  his  change  in 
politics.  Mrs.  Jack  asked  him  what  the  change 
was,  and  he  said  he  had  become  a  Republican  as  a 
forlorn  hope.  The  idea  of  as  well-bred  a  man  as 
Mr.  Billings  being  a  Republican !  Why,  his  sis 
ter  is  one  of  the  best  dressed  women  in  our  set." 

"What  you  say,"  remarked  the  Major,  crushing 
a  walnut  into  a  flat  mass  with  the  nutcracker, 
"  proves  that  Bob  has  been  out  West  too  long  to 
retain  that  degree  of  respect  for  political  phenomena 
which  should  always  mark  the  officer  and  gentle 
man  who  longs  for  soft  assignments.  I  shall  send 
Bob  my  copy  of  'How  to  be  Esteemed,  Though 
Witty.'" 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Max,  in  a  tone  which 
she  adopts  to  denote  her  opinion  that  the  Major  is 
talking  unenlightened  stuff,  "do  you  know  that 
Bob  Billings  needs  only  a  wife  to  make  him  a  very 
acceptable  man." 


316  HOW  TO  BE  ESTEEMED. 

"  But  would  he  not  prove  himself  acceptable  if 
he  proved  that  he  could  get  a  wife?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  see  how.  Bachelors  of  his 
age  can  never  be  popular  with  more  than  one 
woman  at  a  time.  Nobody  wants  always  to  be 
meeting  a  man  who  is  likely  to  be  very  much  in 
love  with  some  other  woman." 

"If  I  rightly  follow  all  the  subtleties  of  your 
reasonings,  madam,  an  unmarried  man  is  pretty 
sure  to  be  in  love  with  some  woman,  and  a  mar 
ried  man  is  pretty  sure  not  to  be." 

"Why,  of  course.  That's  what  makes  the  un 
married  ones  not  nice." 

"  Yet  it  has  been  said  that  all  the  world  loves  a 
lover." 

"  Well,  who  ever  said  that  meant  a  young  lover? 
They  don't  count,  don't  you  see?" 

"  I  am  slowly  beginning  to  see.  It  is  because 
Bob  has  reached  an  age  when  he  does  count  as  a 
lover,  that,  if  he  is  sensible  of  the  advantages  of 
being  popular,  he  should  forthwith  put  himself  out 
of  danger  of  being  in  love  by  getting  married." 

Mrs.  Max  allowed  the  Major  to  fill  her  glass, 
and  thoughtfully  sipped  her  burgundy  before  she 
answered : 

"That's  not  exactly  it,  Major;  and  I  don't  sup 
pose  that  you  could  exactly  understand,  being  only 


HOW  TO  BE  ESTEEMED.  317 

a  man.  Society  is  made  and  managed  by  married 
women.  They  want  the  men  they  see  the  most  of 
in  society  to  be  free  to  admire  any  of  them  more 
than  a  man  in  love  with  some  one  else  could,  don't 
you  see?  How  could  a  man  who  is  not  married 
do  that  and  still  be  nice,  don't  you  know?  It's 
very  stupid  of  you  not  to  see  what  I  mean." 

"  But  I  am  merely  a  man.  However,  is  it  like 
this?  Bob— I  used  this  name  as  he  is  the  horrible 
example — being  a  bachelor,  and  past  the  age  when 
he  can  be  loved  by  all  the  world  merely  for  being 
in  love,  is  in  danger  of  becoming  socially  objec 
tionable  because  he  cannot  adopt  that  catholicity 
of  affection  which,  to  my  infinite  delight,  you  as 
sure  me  society  approves  in  a  married  man." 

"  I  never  said  anything  about  affection,  Major. 
Nobody  wants  anybody's  affection  except  his  wife. 
All  anybody  wants  is  that  the  men  she  meets  shall 
be  just  as  free  to  admire  her  as  anybody  else. 
And  he  must  understand  the  kind  of  admiration 
that  is  wanted.  A  married  man  knows  that:  it's 
about  all  they  do  learn  by  getting  married,  and  it's 
little  enough  sacrifice  to  make  for  the  sake  of  being 
endurable,  I'm  sure." 

"  At  last,  madam,  a  great  light  breaks  in  upon 
my  masculine  understanding.  Matrimony,  as  you 
have  so  lucidly  explained,  is  the  process  of  refining 


318  HOW  TO  BE  ESTEEMED. 

an  education  which  develops  man  from  a  puny 
plant,  dwarfed  and  stunted  by  the  chill  air  and 
meagre  soil  of  bachelorhood  into  a  hundred-leaved 
rose  that  sheds  the  favor  of  its  perfume,  and  the 
sweetness  and  light  of  its  full-bloom  culture,  upon 
all  who  come  within  the  circle  of  its  radiance." 

"Burgundy  always  makes  you  talk  nonsense, 
Major.  What  I  mean  is  that,  if  Mrs.  Jack  Dar 
ing  would  only  leave  Bob  Billings  alone,  I  could 
marry  him  off  inside  of  a  year  to  a  girl  who  has 
money  enough  for  him  to  retire  from  the  army  on. 
Then  one  could  invite  him  to  dinner  without  the 
danger  of  having  to  listen  to  a  lot  of  ravings  about 
Mrs.  Jack's  doings." 


THE  NEW  EDITOR. 


THE   NEW   EDITOR. 

mining-camp  editor  is  either  highly  es 
teemed  by  the  community  in  which  he  lives, 
or  else  is  its  most  despised  member.  He  can  oc 
cupy  no  inconspicuous  middle  ground,  unelated 
by  the  love  or  undepressed  by  the  scorn  of  his 
fellows.  He  must  rank  high  or  low;  he  must 
share  the  distinguished  regard  of  the  camp  with 
the  proprietor  of  the  most  popular  faro  bank,  the 
most  daring  stage-driver,  and  the  gentleman  to 
whose  credit  the  greatest  number  of  fatal  shooting 
affairs  have  been  recorded,  or  else  he  is  degraded 
in  the  estimation  of  the  camp  to  the  level  of  the 
check  guerrilla,  the  unsuccessful  claim -jumper, 
and  the  Chinese  laundryman. 

It  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  explain  to  an  effete 
community  what  causes  go  to  produce  either  of 
these  results.  Even  those  editors  who  have  been 
the  subjects  of  mining-camp  likes  and  dislikes 
have  not  all  been  able  to  explain  the  phenomena 
satisfactorily.  Of  course  such  causes  as  a  dis 
inclination  to  drink  every  time  one  is  asked,  a 
lack  of  editorial  vigor  in  abusing  neighboring 

camps  and  in  extolling  his  own,  or  a  disposition 
321 


322  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

to  condemn  the  sprightly  spirits  of  his  camp  when 
its  manifestation  has  taken  the  form  of  a  small- 
sized  street  battle — such  causes,  manifestly,  are  too 
obvious  to  require  any  explanation  as  to  the  offend 
ing  editor's  unpopularity.  So,  too,  nothing  need 
be  said  in  explaining  the  popularity  of  a,n  editor 
whose  controversy  with  a  neighboring  contempo 
rary  has  resulted  in  a  shooting  affair,  or  whose 
influence  with  a  Congressman  has  secured  the 
building  of  United  States  post-roads,  which  are 
never  thereafter  used  except  by  ore  and  other 
freight  wagons  between  mines  and  mills. 

But  there  were  many  instances  of  popularity 
and  disesteem  of  Nevada  mining  -  camp  editors 
which  remained  hidden  mysteries  not  only  to  the 
friends  of  the  editors,  but  to  the  editors  them 
selves.  In  one  instance,  and  this  was  my  own 
experience,  the  cause  was  never  fully  understood 
but  by  two  persons,  myself  and  one  other;  and, 
except  that  the  one  other  has  recently  encountered 
the  disadvantage  of  non-existence,  the  secret  would 
3'et  remain  unexplained.  This  was  the  under 
standing:  "If  you  hear  tell  of  me  passing  in  my 
checks,  then  you  can  write  a  piece  about  it.  If 
you  write  a  piece  about  it  before  then — why,  what 
I  said  goes." 

That  was  the  agreement  as  stated  by  Long  Bill, 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  323 

as  honest  a  gambler  as  ever  turned  a  card  in 
Nevada. 

I  kept  my  part  of  the  agreement,  when  to  have 
broken  it  would  have  settled  one  of  the  most  acri 
monious  disputes  that  ever  enlivened  the  pages  of 
the  Nevada  press.  How  I  achieved  my  popularity 
was  a  question  which  distracted,  almost  to  the 
point  of  insanity,  nearly  every  editorial  mind  in 
the  State;  and  in  the  discussion  of  the  question  I 
had  a  more  illuminating  opportunity  to  see  myself 
as  others  saw  me  than  I  really  cared  for.  Read 
ing  the  exchanges  was  one  of  the  least  cheerful  of 
my  duties  those  days.  Some  of  the  papers  even 
went  so  far  as  to  deny  the  fact,  and  endeavored  to 
rob  me  of  my  glory  by  diverting  the  controversy 
from  the  question  as  to  how  my  popularity  had 
been  achieved,  through  raising  doubts,  as  I  have 
said,  as  to  the  facts.  I  recall  that  Sam  Davis,  of 
the  Carson  Appeal,  was  one  of  those  who  came  to 
scoff.  He  asserted  that  the  thing  was  preposter 
ous,  because  he  had  heard  from  my  camp  that  I 
had  employed  a  miner's  widow  to  make  some  table 
napkins  for  me  which  I  kept,  and  used,  at  the  res 
taurant.  Then  there  was  Arthur  McEwen,  of  the 
Gold  Hill  News.  He  supported  Davis'  charge  with 
the  assertion  that  the  fact  was  known  that  I  had 
my  clothes  made  at  the  Bay  (San  Francisco),  a 


324  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

circumstance  too  damaging  to  be  offset  by  any 
editor  except  one  with  ordinary  intelligence. 
Therefore,  he  maintained,  the  reports  of  my  popu 
larity  "must  be  malignant  lies,  born  of  a  tender 
foot  conceit,  and  nurtured  by  the  pitiful  pride  of  a 
perennial  popinjay." 

I  mention  this  discussion  not  in  the  spirit  of 
exultation,  now  that  my  day  of  vindication  has 
come,  for  the  fact  was  generally  admitted  at  the 
time,  and  I  believe  has  since  been  acknowledged 
even  by  my  detractors.  I  merely  wish  to  show,  by 
what  I  have  thus  far  written,  that  the  incident 
was  of  no  mere  local  importance  but  excited  a 
State-wide  controversy;  and  that  I  am  therefore 
now  justified,  not  only  in  asserting  the  fact,  but 
in  explaining,  at  this  first  honorable  opportunity, 
the  mystery  which  has  surrounded  it. 

Late  one  afternoon  the  members  of  the  staff  of 
the  Virginia  City,  Nevada,  Chronicle  were  all 
seated  in  breathless  silence  in  the  editorial  room, 
for  the  paper  had  just  been  printed  and  each  man 
was  engaged  in  that  most  fascinating  occupation 
in  life,  reading  in  type  the  "stuff"  he  had  just 
written.  When  attention  had  become  listless, 
when  we  began  reading  what  the  others  had 
written,  the  silence  was  broken  by  the  editor, 
who  remarked  carelessly:  "Oh,  any  one  here 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  325 

want  to  go  to  Bodie  to  take  charge  of  a 
paper?" 

He  had  received  a  letter  from  a  man  who  had 
the  reputation  on  the  Pacific  Coast  of  starting  a 
newspaper  in  every  camp  he  ever  stopped  in  over 
night.  That  man  had  started  a  paper  in  Bodie, 
the  youngest  camp  on  the  Coast,  and  had  written 
to  our  editor  for  a  young  man  to  run  it. 

I  wanted  to  go.  I  wanted  to  see  a  new  mining- 
camp,  and  I  went. 

"  You  are  inclined  to  be  a  little  too  personal  in 
your  stuff, "  the  editor  said  to  me  as  he  bade  me 
good-by.  "Bear  that  in  mind,  and  I  guess  you'll 
get  along  all  right.  If  you  get  tired  of  the  job,  you 
can  come  back  here — if  you're  still  able-bodied." 

Bodie  is,  or  was,  for  I  am  not  certain  it  still  ex 
ists,  on  top  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  within  two  or 
three  miles  of  the  Nevada  State  line;  and  about 
the  same  distance  over  the  line,  in  Nevada,  is  the 
mining-camp  of  Aurora.  The  latter  had  been  a 
big  camp  in  the  early  sixties,  had  been  totally 
deserted,  and  was  revived  by  the  discoveries  in 
Bodie.  In  Aurora  there  were  several  brick  build 
ings,  and  in  one,  which  had  been  a  court-house 
during  the  camp's  first  existence,  was  the  plant  of 
the  Bodie  paper,  there  not  yet  being  newspaper 
accommodations  in  the  California  town.  The  pro- 


326  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

jector  of  the  paper  thought  he  might  as  well  utilize 
his  plant  to  give  Aurora  a  paper,  too.  So,  after  a 
twenty-four-hours  stage-coach  climb  up  the  moun 
tains  from  Carson  to  Aurora,  I  found  that  instead 
of  being  the  editor  of  one,  I  was  to  be  doubly 
exalted — twice  crowned:  the  sole  editor  of  two 
papers,  both  weekly,  and  representative  of  the 
sovereign  interests  of  two  States ! 

It  had  been  raining  and  freezing  during  the  last 
dozen  miles  of  our  journey,  a  dozen  miles  up. a  hill 
more  nearly  perpendicular  than  I  had  supposed 
was  available  for  stage  roads,  and  the  driver  and 
I  had  to  be  lifted  from  the  top  of  the  stage,  for  our 
clothing  was  as  stiff  as  boards.  When  we  had 
been  helped  into  the  principal  camp  saloon,  in 
front  of  which  the  stage  stopped,  the  driver  jerked 
his  arm  at  me,  a  motion  which  caused  his  coat- 
sleeve  to  crackle  with  sharp  reports  and  send  a 
shower  of  ice  on  the  floor.  It  also  directed  general 
attention  to  me,  and  then  he  whispered  hoarsely : 
"The  new  editor." 

Ah,  the  joy  of  that  moment !     It  was  supreme ! 

Several  men  who  had  been  roasting  themselves 
around  a  tall,  pear-shaped,  red-hot  stove  arose, 
bowed,  and  ceremoniously  helped  me  off  with  my 
frozen  coat,  cap,  woollen  muffler,  and  the  gunny- 
sacks  wrapped  round  my  boots. 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  327 

The  group  around  the  faro-table  turned  from 
their  play  and  regarded  me  with  looks  of  friendly 
welcome,  the  dealer,  lookout,  and  casekeeper  nod 
ding  to  me  with  dignity,  tempered  with  kindness. 
The  barkeeper  solemnly  pushed  a  bottle  and 
glasses  across  the  bar  and  said,  with  grave  polite 
ness  :  "  On  the  house."  I  revived  myself  "  on  the 
house,"  and  immediately  thereafter  committed  my 
first  error  in  that  camp — a  sin  of  omission. 

"  You  should  have  asked  the  boys  what  would 
they  have,"  said  Mr.  Julius  Faxon,  the  owner  of 
the  faro-bank,  whom  I  did  not  meet  at  the  time  of 
my  arrival,  but  who  thereafter  became  my  friend, 
philosopher,  and  guide. 

"But,"  I  explained,  "I  did  not  have  money 
enough  to  treat  all  the  men  in  the  place." 

Jule — I  afterward  learned  to  know  and  love  him 
as  "  Jule" — regarded  me  with  as  near  an  approach 
to  surprise  as  his  austere  countenance  permitted, 
and  said : 

"  That  would  have  made  no  difference.  It  was 
the  proper  thing  for  you  to  do;  the  barkeep  knowed 
it  was  the  proper  thing,  and  he'd  a  served  the  boys 
what  they  wanted  even  if  he  knowed  you  hadn't  a 
bean,  and  every  last  one  of  them  had  a  ordered 
wine." 

To  some  extent  the  language  of  the  Bay  prevails 


328  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

in  the  Coast  mining  camps,  and  in  San  Francisco 
"wine,"  as  a  convivial  order,  means  only  cham 
pagne. 

But  I  failed  to  do  the  proper  thing ;  instead  of 
asking  the  boys  what  they'd  have,  I  asked  the 
way  to  the  newspaper  office.  It  was  but  a  little 
way  up  the  road  toward  Last  Chance  Hill,  and  I 
easily  found  it,  as  it  was  in  the  only  two-story 
brick  building  in  the  camp. 

At  that  time  I  did  not  know  what  a  vast  differ 
ence  it  would  make  in  my  career  there  whether  I 
became  personally  popular  or  otherwise.  I  was 
for  several  days  wholly  absorbed  in  the  affairs  of 
my  two  weekly  papers.  The  written  instructions 
left  by  the  proprietor  of  the  paper  were,  in  my 
opinion,  easily  followed.  They  were  to  get  out  a 
spicy  paper;  to  insert  an  advertisement  of  every 
person  doing  business  in  either  camp,  and  charge 
what  I  thought  "was  right";  to  print  all  the 
United  States  Land-Office  and  mining  assessment 
notices  sent  to  me  by  the  land  agents  and  mining 
secretaries,  and  leave  it  to  those  officials  to  deter 
mine  the  rate  of  payment,  allowing  them  twenty 
per  cent  commission  on  what  they  paid;  and,  gen 
erally,  to  "whoop  up"  the  camp.  When,  with 
the  aid  of  the  three  printers,  who  were  the  only 
other  persons  employed  on  the  papers,  I  had  put 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  329 

things  in  running  order,  and  had  mastered  the 
mysteries  of  the  Washington  press  on  which  we 
worked  off  our  editions,  I  began  to  investigate  the 
sources  of  local  news.  I  found  these  to  be  in  the 
express  agent,  the  assayer,  the  mining  superintend 
ent,  and  Mr.  Jule  Faxon.  I  arranged  with  the 
stage  company  for  a  box-seat  twice  a  week  on  the 
Bodie  stage.,  and  visited  the  new  camp  over  the 
State  line  on  Saturdays  and  Tuesdays  for  local 
news  for  the  Bodie  Weekly. 

On  my  first  trip  over  to  Bodie  a  fellow-passen 
ger  on  the  box  was  Jule,  whom  I  knew  then 
neither  by  name  nor  by  occupation.  It  was  a 
glorious  clear  November  day,  and  as  we  swung 
down  the  grade  of  the  gorge  and  passed  the  big 
brick  mill  of  the  period  of  Aurora's  former  great 
ness  which  was  being  restored  for  renaissance  ser 
vice,  we  turned  into  the  canon  whose  walls,  for 
hundreds  of  feet  above  the  road,  were  steep  steps 
of  sombre  granite  supporting  receding  heights  of 
gloomy,  almost  black,  pine-covered  peaks,  and  at 
last  burst  into  one  of  those  tiny,  smiling,  sun- 
washed  valleys  which  must  have  been  created  on 
one  of  Nature's  holidays,  as  a  study  in  detail, 
while  she  was  at  work  on  the  vast  crags  with 
which  she  finished  that  masterpiece,  the  Sierra 
Nevada.  It  must  have  been  that  my  interest  in 


330  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

the  view  was  too  intense  to  make  me  aware,  at  the 
time,  that  none  of  the  questions  I  carelessly  asked 
my  companions  were  answered,  nor  even  noticed. 
This  was  brought  to  my  attention  by  an  incident 
which  drew  from  me  a  specific  question,  which 
was  answered ;  arid  then  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
was  the  first  reply  I  had  received.  As  we  were 
proceeding  soberly  along  over  the  level  bed  of  the 
little  valley — a  Sierra  Nevada  driver  never  hurries 
except  on  dangerous  grades — we  met  another 
stage.  That  and  ours  stopped.  The  two  drivers, 
after  halting  their  teams,  raised  their  muffled  arms 
in  a  ceremonious  salute,  dropped  them  to  their 
sides,  produced  each  a  flask,  each  drank,  and 
nodded  to  the  other  as  he  did  so,  and  both  drove 
on.  Not  a  word  was  exchanged. 

"  Who  was  that?"  I  asked  our  driver.  I  should 
not  have  cared  had  he  not  answered,  for  my  mind 
was  already  busy  composing  a  description  of  the 
view  before  me,  and  concerned  only  in  a  chase  of 
contrasting  terms  which  should  suitably  picture 
the  black  green  of  the  pines  in  the  canon,  and  the 
light  yellow  greens  of  a  clump  of  willows  ahead  of 
us  growing  near  a  pool  already  frozen  around  its 
puncturing  grasses.  But  the  action  of  the  driver 
attracted  my  attention.  My  question  seemed  first 
to  stupefy  him.  Then  he  turned  toward  me  with 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  331 

the  heavy,  effortful  movement  of  a  seal  on  land, 
regarded  me  a  moment  with  painfully  manifest 
disgust,  and  said  slowly : 

"Hank  Monk." 

The  name  meant  nothing  to  me,  for  I  did  not 
then  recall  the  story  about  Horace  Greoley's 
mountain  ride  in  Monk's  stage,  and  I  proceeded 
with  my  composition.  I  was  soon  interrupted  by 
my  fellow-passenger,  who,  up  to  that  time,  had 
not  spoken  a  word. 

"  You  are  the  new  editor?"  he  asked  politely. 

"  I  am,"  I  answered,  glowing  with  pride. 

We  rode  on  for  five  mmtues  before  he  spoke 
again,  and  as  he  did  so  ho  pointed  carefully  to  the 
clump  of  willows  I  had  noticed. 

"  It  was  right  over  there,"  he  said  in  a  judicial 
tone,  sighting  his  index  finger  with  an  air  of 
wanting  to  be  exact,  "  it  was  right  over  there  we 
killed  the  last  one." 

For  one  chilly  moment  all  the  sun  and  joy  went 
out  of  that  valley  for  me,  but  I  was  revived  by  the 
thought  of  a  witticism  which  might  be  worked 
into  a  very  fair  paragraph. 

"Where,"  I  asked,  forcing  a  smile,  to  indicate 
the  joke,  "  where  did  you  kill  the  one  before  him?" 

I  was  mentally  concluding  the  paragraph  (I  re 
solved  not  to  waste  it  on  one  of  my  weeklies,  but 


332  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

to  send  it  to  the  Bay),  and  had  reached  the  line 
"thereupon  the  driver  and  my  fellow  passenger 
burst  into  roars  of  laughter,  and  passing  me  a 
bottle  insisted — "  when  my  blissful  reverie  was 
disturbed  by  Jule.  He  spoke  again  in  a  calm, 
impartial  tone : 

"The  one  afore  the  last  we  didn't  kill.  He  was 
shot,  though,  right  over  there." 

He  pointed  to  a  second  clump  of  willows,  which 
seemed  to  me  distressingly  like  the  first.  Then  I 
discovered  another,  and  still  more  clumps,  and,  in 
fact,  realized  that  any  dainty  little  bit  of  land 
scape  is  utterly  ruined  by  duplication.  It  was  a 
commonplace  little  valley,  after  all.  "  He  was 
shot,"  continued  Jule,  who  seemed  to  think  I  was 
thinking  about  what  he  said,  "by  a  gentleman 
who  never  failed  to  kill  before." 

"Nor  since,"  interrupted  the  driver,  regarding 
Jule  with  admiration. 

"  If,"  said  Jule  deprecatingly,  "  if  the  gentleman 
ain't  failed  to  kill  since  it  ain't  for  me  to  say. 
His  failure  that  time  was  a  disappointment  to  the 
camp,  which  in  them  days  was  likely  to  buck 
when  it  was  disappointed." 

"But  that  editor,"  continued  Jule,  "squared 
things  most  beautiful.  In  the  occurrence  his  leg 
was  shot  off  by  the  gentleman  who  asked  him  out. 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  333 

Being  as  how  he  couldn't  stand  for  a  second  shot, 
the  carnp  therefore  resolved  in  meeting  assembled 
that  the  editor  should  preach  a  sermon  over  his 
leg.  The  remain  was  kept  in  ice,  and  when  the 
editor  was  able  to  attend  we  had  a  funeral  at 
which  he  preached  a  sermon  over  his  late  mem 
ber,  which  sermon  was  subsequent  thereto  printed 
in  a  piece  the  Bay  papers  wrote  about  the  occur 
rence.  " 

It  was  what  I  heard  on  that  stage  ride  to  Bodie 
that  vividly  impressed  me  with  the  fact  that  there 
was  something  more  than  a  sentimental  considera 
tion  concerned  in  the  question  of  my  popularity. 
I  thought  upon  the  subject  seriously,  and  felt 
greatly  relieved  when  I  heard  from  one  of  the 
printers  that  in  the  discussion  over  my  merits 
which  took  place  around  Jule's  faro-table  that  im 
portant  person  was  inclined  to  be  friendly  to  me — 
not  friendly  in  a  partisan  sense,  but  as  one  who 
contended  for  a  suspension  of  judgment.  This 
was  something ;  much,  even,  as  I  recalled  those 
willow  clumps. 

"He's  only  a  kid,"  Jule  had  urged  when  the 
camp  expressed  indignation  at  my  not  knowing 
Hank  Monk.  "  He's  only  a  kid  yet,  and  like  as 
not  was  in  the  East  when  Hank  drove  Horace 
Greeley;  and  while  I  don't  deny  that  a  man  as 


334  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

sets  hisself  up  to  be  a  editor  and  don't  know  Hank 
Monk  is  as  bad  as  a  prospector  not  knowing  iron 
pyrites  from  flake  gold,  still  he's  got  time  to 
learn." 

This  helped.  I  saw  it  in  the  attitude  toward 
me  of  the  principal  men  in  the  camp.  Sometimes 
the  faro-dealers,  off  duty,  would  come  to  my  office 
and  report  the  movements  of  their  fellows,  whereof 
I  made  up  a  valuable  department  of  "Personal 
Gossip";  the  stage  agent  would  supply  me  with  a 
list  of  "Arrivals  and  Departures,"  and  the  super 
intendent  of  the  Last  Chance  mine  would  call  to 
give  me  some  mining  news  and  get  a  few  ex 
changes.  Still,  I  realized  that  these  acts  were 
prompted  more  by  kindness  than  friendliness,  and 
that  I  was  still  on  debatable  ground,  with  a  wil 
low  clump  on  one  side  of  me  and  perfect  social 
equality  on  the  other.  It  was  at  this  stage  of  my 
experience  that  that  unfortunate  napkin  incident 
occurred.  A  miner  who  had  struck  an  unexploded 
dynamite  cartridge  with  his  pick  and  had  been 
scattered  up  a  shaft,  had  left  a  widow  able  to  do 
plain  sewing,  a  fact  I  had  added  to  my  report  of 
the  accident,  at  the  suggestion  of  my  friend  Jule. 
As  every  man  in  camp  had  ordered  some  sewing 
done  by  the  widow,  and  paid  her  in  advance,  her 
worldly  condition  had  been  vastly  improved  by 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  335 

the  cartridge  accident;  and  as  Jule  took  pains  to 
point  out  that  my  notice  in  the  paper  had  contrib 
uted  to  her  prosperity,  the  accident  had  indirectly 
benefited  me  as  much  as  the  widow.  My  order  to 
her  had  been  for  some  table  napkins.  I  had  asked 
for  one  at  the  restaurant;  but  the  waiter  had  in 
formed  me,  in  effect,  that  if  the  style  of  the  house 
was  not  up  to  my  requirements,  I  could  starve,  go 
back  to  the  Bay,  or  go  to  another  place  equally, 
though  less  favorably,  renowned  for  its  climate. 
When  the  widow  brought  the  napkins  to  me,  I 
carried  them  to  the  restaurant,  and  reserving  one 
for  my  use  gave  the  others  to  the  waiter,  with  a 
request  that  one  be  supplied  to  me  at  each  meal. 
While  I  was  dining  Jule  came  in  and  seemed 
about  to  sit  down  at  my  table,  but  changed  his 
mind  as  he  saw  me  lift  the  napkin  from  my  lap. 
He  passed  on  then  to  another  table,  where  he 
joined  a  party  to  whom  the  waiter  had  already 
made  confidences  which  caused  considerable  ex 
cited  discussion,  and  I  gradually  became  conscious 
that  I  was  its  subject. 

"You  hadn't  ought  to  done  it,"  Jule  said  after 
dinner,  when  he  called  on  me  in  my  office.  "I 
don't  speak  from  no  ignorant  prejudice  agin  the 
style,"  he  added,  "for  when  I  go  to  the  Bay  I  tuck 
my  napkin  under  my  chin  along  with  the  other 


336  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

swells  at  the  Maison  Doree  and  the  Poodle  Dog 
restaurants.  But  here  the  boys  look  at  it  like 
things  wasn't  good  enough  for  you.  When  you're 
in  Rome  play  the  game  as  the  Romans  play  it, 
and  don't  try  and  ring  in  no  new  rules,  as  Shake 
speare  says." 

I  abandoned  the  napkin  from  that  moment,  but 
I  was  made  to  feel  that  Jule  was  having  a  hard 
time  fighting  my  battle,  and  that  another  serious 
offence  on  my  part  might  end  my  term  of  proba 
tion  with  an  unfavorable  verdict. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  later  that  the  incident 
occurred  which  finally  concluded  with  my  victory. 
Jule  owned  a  faro-bank  in  Bodie  also,  where  a 
rival  bank  was  run  by  a  gentleman  I  never  knew  by 
any  other  name  than  Long  Bill.  The  episode  be 
gan  when  there  came  to  Bodie  a  prosperous-look 
ing,  elderly  man,  accompanied  by  a  young  woman 
concerning  whose  beauty  and  style  the  most  ex 
travagant  reports  were  current.  These  stories 
were  all  the  more  entertaining  because  of  the  un 
certainty  which  characterized  them.  That  is  to 
say,  the  young  woman  was  reported  to  be  plump 
and  fragile,  dark  and  fair,  dressed  in  blue  and 
dressed  in  red,  according,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  to 
the  preferences  in  such  matters  of  those  who 
spread  her  fame.  Few  saw  her.  She,  and  the 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  337 

elderly  man  who  was  said  to  be  her  uncle,  arrived 
in  Bodie  from  the  California  side,  and  at  night. 
They  went  to  the  hotel,  which  occupied  the  one 
floor  above  Long  Bill's  faro-bank,  and  the  lady 
seldom  left  her  room. 

Her  uncle  was  much  about  the  camp,  and  said 
he  was  looking  for  a  likely  mill  site,  something 
which  every  man  in  camp  had  to  sell.  Although 
the  rest  of  the  camp  saw  little  or  nothing  of  her, 
Long  Bill,  it  was  rumored,  dined  daily  with  the 
fair  stranger  and  her  uncle.  One  day  both  camps 
were  thrown  into  such  an  excitement  as  had  not 
shaken  them  since  the  bonanza  was  struck  in  the 
Standard  mine:  Long  Bill  and  the  fair  stranger 
had  eloped,  had  gone  to  Carson  by  private  convey 
ance! 

I  hastened  to  Bodie  to  get  the  particulars,  and 
held  back  the  issue  of  the  Bodie  Weekly  half  a 
day  to  print  the  story.  I  wrote  a  good  story.  I 
felt  when  I  was  writing  it  that  I  was  in  the  vein, 
and  expected  that  the  playful  particulars  I  men 
tioned  incidentally,  such  as  Long  Bill's  artless 
unconventionally  in  neglecting  to  marry  the  lady 
before  they  started  on  a  two-day  journey,  would 
do  much  to  rehabilitate  me  in  the  estimation  of 
even  those  who  were  most  pronounced  in  their 
condemnation  of  the  napkin  incident.  The  story 


338  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

included  an  interview  with  the  enraged  uncle,  who 
had  sworn  to  follow  the  couple  to  Carson  and  shoot 
Long  Bill  on  sight,  with  my  comment  that  this 
threat,  if  it  reached  the  ears  of  "  Attenuated  Wil 
liam,"  might  induce  him  to  continue  his  wedding 
journey  around  the  world. 

I  helped  the  printers  swing  the  lever  of  our 
Washington  press  that  night  until  we  had  run  off 
not  only  the  regular  edition,  but  fifty  extra  copies, 
and  then  went  to  my  bed  to  dream  of  to-morrow's 
triumphs. 

The  first  man  I  met  the  next  morning  was  one 
of  Long  Bill's  faro-dealers,  a  pleasant,  smooth 
faced  young  man,  who  was  just  embarking  on  the 
stage  for  Carson.  I  noticed  with  pleasure  that  he 
had  a  copy  of  the  Weekly  in  his  hand.  He  re 
garded  me,  I  thought,  with  a  puzzled  look  as  he 
said: 

"  I've  just  read  your  piece,  and 

"Rather  peppery,  eh?"  I  interrupted,  trying 
not  to  look  too  much  pleased. 

His  puzzled  look  increased,  and  he  said  after  a 
moment's  silence : 

"Do  you  know  Long  Bill?" 

"I  never  happened  to  meet  him." 

"I  thought  not,"  said  the  young  man,  softly. 
"I'll  show  him  your  piece  when  I  get  to  Carson." 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  339 

I  attributed  his  lack  of  enthusiasm,  or  whatever 
it  was  his  manner  indicated,  to  the  fact  that  he 
was  an  employee  of  Long  Bill.  But  the  situation 
failed  to  improve.  A  little  group  was  standing  in 
front  of  the  express  office,  to  whom  the  agent  was 
reading  my  article  aloud.  He  stopped  as  I  ap 
proached,  and  they  all  regarded  me  with  surprise, 
which  seemed  mixed  with  pity.  The  agent  spoke 
to  me: 

"  Do  you  know — that  is,  have  you  ever  met 
Long  Bill?"  he  asked. 

"  1  never  had  that  pleasure, "  I  answered,  some 
what  tartly,  for,  although  the  question  may  have 
been  innocent  enough,  the  manner  of  the  speaker, 
and  of  the  whole  group,  impressed  me  as  offensive. 
I  hurried  down  to  the  saloon.  I  had  never  till 
then  felt  the  need  of  a  stimulant  before  breakfast; 
I  had  that  feeling  then.  Instead  of  the  polite  at 
tention  to  my  wants  which  the  barkeeper  usually 
gave  me,  he  greeted  me  with  a  stare  of  un 
disguised  wonder. 

"Do  you  know  Long  Bill?"  he  gasped. 

I  left  the  place  without  answering,  and  hur 
ried  to  the  restaurant.  The  waiter,  grinning, 
brought  my  dozen  napkins  and  piled  them  on  the 
table. 

"  I  don't  want  these,"  I  said  severely. 


340  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

"Better  pack  'em  off  with  you,"  he  answered. 
•"They'll  be  useful  for  bandages." 

"Bandages?" 

"  Cert,     Don't  you  know  Long  Bill?" 

I  confess  that,  while  my  article  had  created 
more  of  a  sensation  than  I  had  even  hoped  for,  I 
was  depressed.  I  wanted  to  see  Jule.  He  was  a 
professional  rival  of  Long  Bill,  and  that  fact  had 
prompted  some  of  the  most  cutting  witticisms  in 
my  article  at  Bill's  expense.  As  I  was  walking 
slowly  back  to  the  office  I  started  nervously  when 
a  hand  was  laid  on  my  shoulder.  It  was  Jule, 
and  as  I  looked  at  him  my  heart  sank;  his  face 
expressed  pain  and  deep  sympathy. 

"I've  been  reading  your  piece,  my  boy,"  he 
said,  sadly,  "and  the  more  I  read  it  the  more  I 
couldn't  make  it  out,  no  how,  till  I  happened  to 
think,  as  you're  not  an  old-timer,  maybe  it  was 
possible  you  didn't  know  Long  Bill." 

I  felt,  in  spite  of  the  seriousness  of  his  tone,  that 
Jule  was  still  my  friend,  and  that  I  could  ask  him 
certain  particulars  about  Long  Bill  which  I  had 
come  to  realize,  within  the  last  hour,  it  was  well 
for  me  to  know,  and  that  it  would  have  been  bet 
ter  for  me  to  have  known  before  I  wrote  my  article. 

"No,"  said  Jule,  reflectively,  "there  ain't  noth 
ing  you  can  know  that  would  do  any  good  now. 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  341 

Bill  won't  take  no  advantage  of  you;  he  never 
done  that  to  any  of  'em,  for  he  never  needed  to." 

He  walked  along  in  silence  by  my  side  until  we 
reached  the  office  door ;  there  he  shook  hands  with 
me  sorrowfully,  and  said : 

"  If  you  think  of  it  to-day  you  might  write  out 
a  few  things  and  give  'em  to  me." 

"A  few  things?  I  don't  understand,"  I  said 
nervously. 

"Why,"  explained  Jule,  and  he  seemed  to  be  a 
bit  embarrassed,  "a  few  things  you  might  like  to 
have  me,  as  your  friend,  know :  the  address  of 
your  folks  back  East,  for  instance.  I  won't  mind 
the  expense,  for  I'll  always  allow  that  you  was  a 
promising  kid." 

Then  he  left  me. 

The  week  that  followed  was  one  of  torture  to 
me.  To  be  sure  my  treatment  by  the  men  in  the 
camp  grew  no  worse;  in  fact,  such  slight  inter 
course  as  they  held  with  me  was  rather  more 
kindly.  But  there  were  many  things  which  wor 
ried  me  and  seemed  ominous.  The  exchanges 
from  the  near-by  camps,  which  had  stolen  many 
of  my  brightest  articles  theretofore  without  credit, 
ignored  the  elopement  story  altogether,  or  else 
gave  it  only  brief  and  polite  mention,  and  invari 
ably  with  credit.  Even  the  great  dailies  printed 


342  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

in  Carson  and  Virginia  City  contained  only 
guarded  allusions  to  the  incident,  and  in  some  of 
them  I  was  quoted  by  name  as  authority  for  the 
facts.  While  I  worked  I  kept  a  knife  and  a  pistol 
in  the  open  drawer  of  my  desk.  When  I  went 
abroad,  these  weapons  were  close  to  my  feverish 
hand.  I  had  obtained  an  accurate  personal  de 
scription  of  Long  Bill  which  I  imparted  to  my  force 
of  printers,  and  we  planned  that  if  he  entered  the 
office  and  became  belligerent,  we  should  make  a 
united  attack — I  with  my  deadly  weapons,  the 
foreman  with  a  mallet,  and  the  other  two  printers 
with  a  side-stick  and  shooting-stick,  tools  of  their 
trade. 

The  pursuit  of  journalism  under  such  conditions 
cannot  be  made  a  brilliant  success,  as  I  sadly  ad 
mitted  when  looking  over  the  chastened  pages  of 
the  following  Weekly.  It  was  while  I  was  doing 
this  that  the  young  chap,  Long  Bill's  dealer,  who 
went  to  Carson  with  the  fateful  copy  of  the 
Weekly,  entered  the  office  and  said  to  me  politely : 

"  I  seen  Bill  in  Carson,  and  he  asked  me  to  stop 
in  and  tell  you,  with  his  compliments,  that  when 
he  comes  back  he's  going  to  cut  your  heart  out." 

He  bowed  and  retired. 

Sooner  than  I  expected,  only  two  days  after  his 
ambassador,  Bill  arrived.  I  learned  the  story  of 


"  'AUK    YOU  THE    EDIT' 


OR?'    HE   ASKED   SOFTLY.  "—Page  343. 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  343 

his  approach  to  my  office  afterward,  but  it  should 
be  told  here.  He  returned  on  the  Carson  stage, 
and  was  greeted  at  the  saloon  by  a  large  crowd, 
for  the  news  of  his  coming  had  reached  the  camp 
a  few  hours  in  advance  of  the  stage  by  the  driver 
of  a  private  conveyance  who  had  passed  him  at  the 
foot  of  the  grade.  No  allusion  was  made  to  the  well 
understood  object  of  his  visit,  nor  to  its  cause,  not 
even  when  the  crowd  accepted  his  invitation  to  the 
bar.  There  was  a  little  professional  gossip  about 
affairs  in  Carson,  and  then  Bill  strode  out  of  the  sa 
loon  and  toward  my  office,  followed  by  a  large  dele 
gation.  They  halted  outside,  at  Jule's  suggestion. 

"We  better  stay  here,  bcrj-s,"  he  said.  "If  it 
was  any  one  but  Bill,  one  or  two  of  us  might  go  in 
to  see  fair  play." 

Bill  had  almost  reached  my  desk  before  I  looked 
up,  and  even  then  I  think  I  was  attracted  by  the 
excited  movements  of  the  printers.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  as  to  his  identity :  an  unusually  tall 
man,  with  loose,  stooping  shoulders,  brown,  close- 
cut  hair,  gray  at  the  temples,  a  short  gray  and 
brown  mustache,  deep-set  brown  eyes,  and  with 
four  distinct  knife-scars  on  his  face. 

"Are  you  the  editor?"  he  asked  softly. 

I  confess  that  I  tried  several  times  before  I  man 
aged  to  answer : 


344  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

"  I  am !" 

As  I  did  so  I  moved  my  hand  toward  the  open 
drawer  of  my  desk.  He  saw  the  motion  and  I 
saw  a  quicker  one  made  by  his  right  hand  which 
remained  in  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat. 

"Don't  do  that,"  he  said,  very  quietly.  "I 
ain't  going  to  take  no  advantage  of  you,  but  of 
course  I've  got  a  cocked  gun  pointed  at  you  in  my 
pocket." 

My  hand  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  open  drawer. 
I  don't  think  I  could  have  moved  it  if  I  had  tried. 

"What  I  have  to  say  to  you  is  particular,"  he 
resumed,  "and  if  these  gents  here,"  nodding 
toward  the  three  pale  but  determined  printers  who 
were  marshalled  and  armed  according  to  our  plan, 
"will  step  outside  a  minute  I  will  feel  obliged." 

At  that  moment  I  recalled  what  Jule  had  told 
me  about  Bill — that  he  would  take  no  advantage 
of  me — and  the  men  went  out  at  my  request. 
Long  Bill  then  stepped  to  my  side  and  asked  me 
to  take  his  gun  from  his  pocket.  I  did  so  and  laid 
it  on  the  desk.  He  then  drew  from  an  inside 
pocket  a  letter.  He  fumbled  it  from  one  hand  to 
the  other  for  some  time  in  silence,  then  he  looked 
at  me  a  little  curiously  and  smiled  as  he  asked : 

"  I  suppose  you  know  Dusty  Bob?" 

I  did  not,  and  told  him  so ;  thinking  at  the  same 


THE  NEW  EDITOR.  345 

time  that  what  I  seemed  chiefly  to  lack  was  a  more 
extended  acquaintance  with  Nevada's  notability. 

Bill  continued : 

"  Well,  that's  funny,  for  I  supposed  I  was  the 
only  damned  fool  on  the  Coast  who  didn't  know 
her.  I've  heard  tell  of  her  plenty  of  times  these 
last  five  years,  but  it  just  happened  that  we  never 
struck  the  same  camp  together.  Dusty  Bob  is," 
he  paused  and  smiled  grimly — "  well,  I  guess  she's 
the  slickest  article  in  her  game  on  the  whole  Slope." 

"What  is  her  game?"  I.  asked. 

"Playing  suckers,"  answered  Bill  deliberately, 
and  then  he  added  sadly,  "and  who  would  ever 
think  Long  Bill  would  be  played  for  such?" 

A  light  was  beginning  to  break  in  on  my  intel 
ligence;  but  I  had  been  taught  discretion  in  affairs 
that  concerned  my  visitor,  and  awaited  develop 
ments  in  silence.  He  was  silent,  too,  for  some 
time,  and  then  he  handed  me  the  letter,  with  the 
remark,  " Read  this."  This  is  the  letter  I  read: 

DEAR  WILLY: 

By-by ;  I'm  off  for  the  Bay.  I  leave  you  one 
of  your  diamonds  and  enough  money  to  return  to 
Bodie  with.  I  am  sure  you  will  feel  that  the  gen 
erous  allowance  I  have  made  myself  is  not  too 
much  for  you  to  pay  for  the  pleasant  surprise  of 
knowing  that  your  little  sweetheart  is 

DUSTY  BOB. 

P.  S.     It  -just  strikes  me  that  you  can  square 


346  THE  NEW  EDITOR. 

things  with  that  editor  man  by  agreeing  not  to  cut 
his  heart  out  if  he  will  agree  not  to  tell  who  the 
bride  was  in  our  "wedding  journey."  If  you  kill 
him,  our  story  is  sure  to  come  out.  D.  B. 

I  folded  the  letter  and  returned  it  to  its  owner, 
and  as  he  received  it  he  said  : 

"  Does  the  game  go  as  it  lays?" 

"  It  goes !"  I  answered. 

"  If  you  hear  tell  of  me  passing  in  my  checks, 
then  you  can  write  a  piece  about  it.  If  you  write 
a  piece  about  it  before  then — why,  what  I  said 
goes." 

Long  Bill  and  I  shook  hands. 

"  Will  you  join  me,"  he  said,  "in  a  drink?" 

I  agreed,  and  we  walked  forth  from  my  office, 
arm  in  arm. 

The  effect  of  our  appearance  thus  upon  the  wait 
ing  crowd  I  can  never  describe.  There  was  one 
quick  exclamation  of  amazement,  which  was  si 
lenced  when  Bill  said  hospitably : 

"  Gentlemen,  will  you  join  me  and  my  friend, 
the  editor?" 

There  were  no  explanations,  none  were  asked; 
but  as  we  walked  down  the  street  I  felt  that  my 
popularity  was  as  firmly  fixed  in  that  camp  as  the 
broad  foundations  of  its  mighty  mountains  tower 
ing  in  everlasting  serenity. 


DATE  DUE 


• 


Q  8  199?. 


A     000  549  948 


3  1970  01723  2080 


